m^n  ucDios^  mwiM^K^x. 


LIFE   OF 

REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

LATE       MINISTER       OF     THE       RECONCILIATION,     AND      SE- 
NIOR     PASTOR      OF       THE     UNIVERSALISTS,     CON- 
GREGATED    IN     BOSTON 


WRITTEN    BY    HIMSELF. 


THE   R1EC0RDS   CONTAIN   ANECDOTES   OF   THE    WRITERS'   INFANCY, 
AND   ARE   EXTENDED   TO   SOME  YEARS  AFTER  THE  COMMENCE- 
MENT  OF   HIS   PUBLIC   LABORS   IN  AMERICA. 

TO    WHICH   IS   ADDED 

A    BRIEF    CONTINUATION   TO  THE    CLOSING    SCENE. 


To  Christian  Friends  this  Volume  makes  appeal  j 
Friends  are  indulgent — Christian  Friends  can  feel. 


STEREOTYPE    EDITION,    WITH    NOTES    AND   REMARKS, 

BY  REV.  L.  S.  EYERETT. 


BOSTON: 

MARSH,    CAPEN    and    LYON. 

1833. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1831,  by  Marsh, 
Ca?en  &.  Lyon,  and  in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  Mas- 
sachusetts. 


PREFACE. 


The  pages  which  compose  the  volume  now  pre- 
sented to  the  pubHc,  were  originally  designed  only 
for  the  eye  of  a  tender  and  beloved  friend. 

They  were  written  at  the  earnest  request  of  one, 
to  whom  the  author  was  endeared  by  many  years  of 
intimate  friendship,  and  still  more  by  those  divine 
and  soul-soothing  tenets,  of  which  it  was  his  distin- 
guished lot  to  be  ORDAINED  the  promulgator. 

For  those  who,  like  this  individual,  have  dwelt 
with  rapture  upon  the  blessed  assurance  of  the  bound- 
less and  enduring  love  of  a  redeeming  God,  as  pow- 
erfully exhibited  by  those  hps  which  rarely  opened 
but  to  expatiate  upon  the  glad  tidings  which  was  the 
theme  of  the  angelic  song:  For  those,  who  loved  the 
philanthropic,  the  inspired  Preacher,  for  the  sake  of 
the  glorious  inspiration;  these  sheets  will  possess  the 
strongest,  and  most  important  interest:  To  such,  and 
to  such  only,  they  are  addressed.  It  is  in  compliance 
with  their  solicitations  that  they  are  sent  into  the 
world,  and  it  is  not  even  expected  that  those  who 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  consolatory  message,  and  who 
knew  not  the  powers  of  his  mighty  mind,  or  the  pure 
and  exalted  benevolence  of  his  heart,  will  have  any 
interest  in  inquiring,  '  What  manner  of  man  was  he  who 
told  these  things^  nor  what  spirit  he  was  of. ' 

Boston,  May  2,  1816. 


M1914.49. 


PREFACE 

TO    THE    FOURTH    EDITION. 


In  presenting  this  edition  of  the  Ufe  of  Eev.  John 
Murray  to  the  pubhc,  the  pubhshers  are  satisfied  that 
they  are  contributing  to  the  edification  and  pleasure 
of  many  who  have  not  hitherto  been  able  to  obtain 
the  work,  owing  to  the  rapid  increa^o  of  the  denomi- 
nation of  Universahsts  in  this  country,  the  former  edi- 
tions were  found  wholly  unequal  to  the  demand.  Ma- 
ny, in  different  parts  of  the  country,  have  sought  to 
obtain  copies  of  the  work,  executed  in  a  style  which 
should  entitle  it  to  a  place  in  their  libraries,  but  an 
edition  of  the  kind  wanted,  was  not  to  be  found. 

To  supply  this  demand,  and  by  so  doing,  contrib- 
ute to  the  gratification  of  those  who  hold  the  name 
and  memory  of  the  author  in  grateful  remembrance, 
it  was  thought  advisable  to  re-publish  the  work  with 
such  notes  and  other  improvements  as  might  be 
thought  necessary.  No  pains  have  been  spared  to 
render  this  edition  deserving  of  general  approbation. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  generality  of  Universal- 
ists  do  not  now  hold  to  all  the  peculiarities  of  senti- 
ment which  distinguished  the  revered  author  of  these 
pages.  But  in  one  respect  all  are  united — all  who 
bear  the  name,  believe  in  the  ultimate  reconciliation 
and  happiness  of  the  world  of  mankind.  The  disa- 
greement, (if  an  honest  difference  of  opinion  may  be 
so  called,)  is  in  regard  to  the  means,  by  which,  and 


PREFACE. 


the  time  when,  that  result  shall  be  brought  about. 
And  more — all  are  agreed  so  far  as  to  be  willing  to 
receive  each  other  as  brethren,  mutually  favored  with 
the  inahenable  right  of  entertaining  opinions  according 
to  the  measure  of  grace  bestowed.  In  this,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  order  have  not  departed  from  that  high 
toned  liberahty  which  distinguished  the  venerated 
Murray. 

This  new,  and  we  hope  improved  edition,  will  go 
forth  into  the  world  accompanied  with  an  ardent 
prayer  for  its  success  in  melting  the  hearts  into  deep 
contrition,  by  the  spirit  which  it  breathes — a  spirit 
of  gratitude  and  kindness.  And  in  proportion  to 
the  salutary  effect  it  may  have,  will  be  the  pleasure 
re«;ulting  from  the  pains  which  has  been  taken  to  ren- 
der it  deserving  of  patronage. 

Editor. 


Aug,  ly  1831. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  n. 

An  account  of  the  Author's  birth  and  parentage;  with  succeeding  events 

until  the  decease  of  his  father 9 

;<^HAPTER    II. 
Record  continued  until  the  author's  departure  from  Ireland    -  47 

CHAPTER  III. 
Arrival  in  England,  and  further  progress  of  the  inexperienced  traveller 

69 

CHAPTER  iV. 

The  Author  becomes  a  happy  husband,  a  happy  father.  He  embr5»^e8 
the  *  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus/  and  from  this,  and  other  combining  cau- 
ses^ he  is  involved  in  great  difficulties.  Death  deprives  him  of  his 
wedded  friend,  and  his  infant  son,  and  he  is  overtaken  by  a  series  of 

calamities 98 

CHAPTER  V, 

The  bereaved  man  quitting  his  native  shores,  embarks  for  America,  in- 
dulging the  fond  hope  of  sequestering  himself  in  the  solitude  for  which 
he  sigbed.  But,  contrary  to  his  expectations,  a  series  of  circumstan- 
ces unite  to  produce  him  a  Promulgator  of  the  gospel  of  God,  our 
Saviour 128 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Record    continued    from    the   September  of    1770,  to    the    winter 

ofl774  -.-.----         146 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Sununary  Record  of  Events  from  January,  1775,  to  October,  1809    210 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Record  continued  from  October,  1809,  to  September,  1816,  including 
the  closing  scene        ---.-..-.         246 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Conclusion  --        -        -        -        -        -        -        -         261 

Appendix      -»---..•-.        26T 


LIFE 

OF 

REV.    JOHN    MURRAY 


CHAPTER  I. 

Containing  cm  Jlccount  of  the  Author^ s  Birth  and  Parent'- 
age,  until  the  Decease  of  his  Father. 

How  sweetly  roU'd  over  the  morning  of  life, , 
How  free  from  vexation,  from  sorrow  and  strife; 
Kind  Nature  presented  rich  scenes  to  my  view, 
And  every  scene  she  presented  was  new. 

But  soon  was  the  morning  of  life  clouded  o'er, 
And  its  charming  serenity  lost ; 

Too  soon  was  I  forc'd  to  abandon  the  shore. 
And  on  ocean's  rude  billows  be  tost. 

Your  earnest  solicitations,  my  inestimable,  my  best 
friend,  have,  with  me,  the  force  of  commands,  and  conse- 
quently I  am  irresistibly  compelled  to  retrace  for  your 
gratification,  as  many  of  the  incidents  of  early  life,  as  live 
in  my  memory.  Assured  of  your  indulgence,  I  unhesita- 
tingly commit  to  your  candor,  and  to  your  discretion,  the 
following  sheets. 

I  am  induced  to  regret,  that  my  anecdotes  of  this  charm- 
ing season  are  not  more  multiplied.  Were  my  recollection 
perfect,  my  enjoyments  would  be  reiterated,  but  this  would 
not  be  right,  therefore  it  is  not  so;  every  season  has  its 
enjoyments,  and  the  God  of  Nature  has  thought  proper  to 
keep  them  distinct,  and  appropriate. 

I  think,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  was  ushered  into  this  state  of 
being  on  the  10th  day  of  December,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord,  1741,  four  years  before  the  rebellion,  in  Scotland, 
of  forty-five.  I  mention  this  circumstance,  as  it  proved  to 
me,  in  early  life,  a  source  of  some  vexation.    The  rebel- 


,iO;    :  /r   ','\  ;  ' 'i,ill?<p  0T?\  l^'fV..  JGHN   MfRRAT.     . 

lion  terminated  in  the  destruction  of  many  of  the  Scotch 
nobility  of  my  name,  and  this  same  rebellion  was  long  the 
subject  of  political  controversy,  which  generally  termina- 
ted in  the  execration  of  the  Scots,  and,  on  account  of  my 
name,  I  was  looked  upon  as  a  party  concerned. 

I  drew  my  first  breath  in  the  island  of  Great  Britain,  in 
the  town  of  Alton,  in  Hampshire.  This  town  boasts  a 
Church,  a  Presbyterian  and  a  Quaker  meeting-house  ;  a 
celebrated  free  school,  an  extensive  and  very  useful  manu- 
facture, and  it  is  environed  by  a  plantation  of  hops.  Alton 
is  seated  on  the  River  Wey,  18  miles  east-north-east  of 
South-Hampton,  and  48  miles  west-south-west  of  London. 

Being  the  first  born  of  my  parents,  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  my  appearance  gave  much  joy,  nor  that  the  little 
complaints,  incident  to  infancy,  gave  great  apprehension. 
It  was  in  consequence  of  some  little  indisposition,  that 
they  solicited  and  obtained  for  me  private  baptism.  My 
parents  were  both  sincerely  religious,  though  members  of 
different  sects.  My  father  was  an  Episcopalian,  my  mo- 
ther a  Presbyterian,  yet  Religion  never  disturbed  the  har- 
mony of  the  family.  My  mother  believed,  as  most  good 
women  then  believed,  that  husbands,  ought  to  have  the 
direction,  especially  in  concerns  of  such  vast  importance, 
as  to  involve  the  future  well-being  of  their  children;  and 
of  course  it  was  agreed,  that  I  should  receive  from  the 
hands  of  an  Episcopalian  minister,  the  rite  of  private 
baptism;  and  as  this  ordinance,  in  this  private  manner,  is 
not  administered,  except  the  infant  is  supposed  in  danger 
of  going  out  of  the  world  in  an  unregenerate  state,  before 
it  can  be  brought  to  the  church,  I  take  for  granted  I  was, 
by  my  apprehensive  parents,  believed  in  imminent  danger; 
yet,  through  succeeding  years,  I  seemed  almost  exempt 
from  the  casualties  of  childhood.  I  am  told  that  my 
parents,  and  grand-parents,  had  much  joy  in  me,  that  I 
never  broke  their  rest  nor  disturbed  their  repose  not  even 
in  weaning,  that  I  was  a  healthy,  good-humoured  child, 
of  a  ruddy  complexion,  and  that  the  equality  of  my  dis- 
position became  proverbial.  I  found  the  use  of  my  feet 
before  I  had  completed  my  first  year,  but  the  gift  of  utter 
ance  was  still  postponed.  I  was  hardly  two  years  old, 
when  I  had  a  sister  born;  this  sister  was  presented  at  the 
baptismal  font,  and,  according  to  the  custom  in  our 
Church,  I  was  carried  to  be  received,  that  is,  all  who  are 
privately  baptized,  must,  if  they  live,  be  publicly  received 
in  the  congregation.  The  priest  took  me  in  his  arms,  and 
having  prayed  according  to  the  form  made  use  of  on  such 
occasions,   I  articulated  with  an  audible  voice.  Amen. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  11 

The  congregation  were  astonished,  and  I  have  frequently 
heard  my  parents  say,  this  was  the  first  word  I  ever 
uttered,  and  that  a  long  time  elapsed,  before  I  could  dis- 
tinctly articulate  any  other.  Indulged,  as  I  said,  by  boun- 
teous nature,  with  much  serenity  of  mind,  every  one  was 
happy  with  me.  I  was  fond  of  being  abroad,  and  a  ser- 
vant was  generally  employed  to  gratify  me.  During  these 
repeated  rambles,  I  experienced  some  'hair  breadth 
'scapes,'  which,  while  they  excited  the  wonder  of  my 
good  parents,  they  failed  not  to  record.  From  these 
frequent  promenades,  I  derived  that  vigorous  constitution, 
or  at  least  its  stability,  which  has  prolonged  my  abode  in 
this  vale  of  tears,  through  many  serious  disorders,  which 
have  seemed  to  promise  my  emancipation.  I  do  not 
remember  the  time  when  I  did  not  behold  the  works  of 
Nature  with  delight;  such  as  the  drapery  of  the  heavens, 
and  the  flowers  of  the  garden,  and  of  the  fields;  and  I 
perfectly  recollect,  before  I  was  clothed  in  masculine 
habiliments,  that  I  was  delightedly  occupied  in  opening 
the  ground,  throwing  into  some  form,  and  planting  in 
regular  order,  little  sprigs  broken  from  the  gooseberry,  or 
currant  bushes.  My  pleasures  of  this  nature  were  how- 
ever, soon  interrupted  by  going  to  school :  this  was  my 
first  afiliction;  yet,  to  imperious  necessity,  the  sweet 
pliability  of  human  nature  soon  conformed  my  mind:  nay, 
it  was  more  than  conformed;  I  derived  even  felicity,  from 
the  approbation  of  my  school  dame,  from  the  pictures  in 
my  books,  and  especially  from  the  acquaintance  I  formed 
with  my  school  mates. 

It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  I  was  what  the  world  calls 
naturally  vicious.  I  was  neither  querulous,  nor  quarrel- 
some; I  cannot  trace  in  my  mind  a  vestige  of  envy.  I  re- 
joiced in  every  advantage  possessed  by  my  little  comrades, 
and  my  father  was  accustomed  to  exclaim,  '  Never,  I  be- 
lieve, was  such  a  boy;  he  absolutely  delights  as  much  in 
the  new  garments  worn  by  the  children  of  our  neighbors, 
as  in  his  own:'  and  indeed,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect  during 
this  sweet  morning  of  life,  my  most  complete  satisfaction 
resulted  from  the  gratification  of  others.  I  never  enjoyed 
any  thing  alone;  my  earliest  pleasures  were  social,  and  I 
was  eager  to  reciprocate  every  good  oflfice;  It  is  true  I 
encountered  diflBculties,  from  the  various  dispositions  of 
those  with  whom  I  associated,  but,  in  my  infii.nt  bosom, 
rancor  or  implacability  found  no  place.  Being  however 
too  fond  of  play,  and  ambitious  of  imitating  my  seniors,  I. 
had  little  time  for  reading;  yet  I  learned,  and  at  six  years 
old  could  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  not  indeed  very 


12  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

correctly,  but  I  rarely  paused  at  a  word;  however  difficult, 
still  I  read  on.  My  father,  I  remember,  used  sometimes 
to  laugh  out — a  levity  which,  by  the  way,  he  seldom 
indulged — ^but  he  did  sometimes  laugh  out,  and  say,  '  This 
boy  sticks  at  nothing,  he  has  a  most  astonishing  invention; 
how  it  is  he  utters  such  sounds,  and  passes  on  with  such 
rapidity,  I  cannot  conceive : '  but  my  blunders  were  more 
frequently  marked  by  a  staggering  box  on  the  ear,  which 
necessitated  me  to  stop,-  when  I  was  obliged  to  recom- 
mence, and  go  over  the  whole  again.  This  conduct 
originated,  even  at  this  early  age,  more  fear  than  affection 
for  my  father.  I  was  studious  to  avoid  his  presence,  and 
I  richly  enjoyed  his  absence.  To  my  brothers  and  sisters, 
who  were  multiplied  with  uncommon  rapidity,  I  was 
warmly  attached,  and  as  our  mother  contributed  all  in  her 
power  to  our  gratification,  our  pleasures  were  not  surpas- 
sed by  those  of  any  little  group,  which  came  under  our 
observation. 

My  parents  were  the  religious  children  of  religious  pa- 
rents, and  grand  parents;  they  were  the  more  religious  on 
that  account;  and,  as  the  descendants  of  ancient  noble 
families  value  themselves  on  their  pedigree,  stimulating 
their  children  from  considerations  of  ancestry  to  act  up  to 
the  illustrious  examples  which  they  exhibit  and  emblazon, 
uniformly  insisting  that  they  shall  avoid  mixing  with  the 
plebian  race;  so,  as  soon  as  I  appeared  to  pay  attention 
to  interesting  tales,  I  was  made  acquainted  with. the  char- 
acter of  my  grand  parents. 

My  paternal  grandfather,  however,  possessed  only  neg- 
ative religion;  that  is,  his  affection  for  my  grandmother 
obliged  him  to  conform  to  her,  in  every  thing;  and  he  es- 
teemed himself  happy,  in  being  blest  with  a  wife,  who, 
from  principle  and  inclination,  was  both  able  and  willing 
to  take  upon  herself  the  care  and  culture  of  her  children. 
How  long  this  grandfather  lived,  I  am  unable  to  say,  but 
my  grandmother  was,  with  respect  to  her  religious  attach- 
ments, more  fortunate  in  a  second  marriage.  She  was 
united  to  a  Mr.  Beattie,  a  man  of  considerable  note, 
in  every  point  of  view.  It  was  by  this  gentleman's  name, 
I  became  acquainted  with  my  grandmother;  I  remember, 
when  very  young,  to  have  seen  his  picture,  which  gave 
me  a  very  high  idea  of  his  person.  It  was  his  son,  who 
was  governor  of  the  fortress,  in  the  harbor  of  Cork.  My 
grandmother  soon  lost  this  second  husband,  and  never 
married  again.  She  was,  ia  the  morning  and  meridian 
of  her  life,  a  celebrated  beauty :  the  remains  of  a  fine  face 
were  visible  when  I  knew  her:  I  never  beheld  a  more 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  1.3 

beautiful  old  lady.  Traces  of  aflluence  were  conspicuous 
in  her  dwelling,  her  furniture,  and  apparelj  she  was  an 
immediate  descendant  of  an  ancient  and  honorable  family 
in  France;  her  father's  name  was  Barroux,  one  of  the 
noblesse,  and  a  dweller  in  the  town  of  Paimboeuf,  on  the 
river  Loire,  between  the  city  of  Nantes,  and  the  mouth 
of  said  river.  Mr.  Barroux  having  buried  his  lady,  who 
left  him  two  daughters,  thought  proper,  as  was  then  the 
custom  of  people  of  distinction,  to  educate  his  eldest 
daughter  in  England;  this  step  banished  her  from  her  na- 
tive country,  and  from  her  father:  she  never  saw  either 
more.  Attaching  herself  to  a  family  of  Episcopalians, 
she  became  a  zealous  Protestant,  which,  together  with  her 
selecting  a  husband  of  riie  same  persuasion,  confirmed  her 
an  exile  forever.  The  irritated  feelings  of  her  father  ad- 
mitted no  appeal :  his  affections  were  totally  alienated :  he 
was  a  high  spirited,  obstinate  man,  and  he  swore  in  his 
wrath,  he  would  wed  the  first  woman  he  met,  provided  he 
could  obtain  her  consent,  and  she  were  not  absolutely  dis- 
gusting. The  first  who  presented  happened  to  be  his 
chambermaid;  he  made  known  to  her  his  vow,  was  ac- 
cepted with  gratitude  and  they  were  speedily  married 
Not  many  years  after  this  event,  the  old  gentleman  died, 
leaving  no  issue  by  his  second  marriage,  and,  as  he  left 
no  will,  his  daughter,  who  continued  under  the  paternal 
roof,  entered  into  possession  of  the  whole  estate;  she, 
however,  survived  her  father  only  three  weeks,  when  my 
grandmother  became  the  only  legal  heir  to  the  property, 
both  of  her  father,  and  her  sister. 

A  large  share  of  the  personal  estate  was  conveyed  to 
England,  by  two  priests;  and  the  real  estate  was  tendered 
to  my  grandmother,  on«  condition  that  she  would  read  her 
recantation,  renounce  the  damnable  doctrines  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  receive  the  Host,  as  the  real 
presence.  My  grandmother,  and  my  father,  after  a 
conference,  which  continued  but  a  few  moments,  cheer- 
fully concurred  in  a  relinquishment  of  the  estate,  and 
united  in  declaring,  that,  on  terms  so  calculated  to  pros- 
trate their  integrity,  they  would  not  accept  the  whole 
kingdom  of  France.  The  clergyman  returned  to  the 
Gallic  shore,  and  the  person  left  in  the  house,  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  charge  of  the  estate,  until  the  heirs  at 
law  should  recover  their  senses,  continued  in  the  quiet 
possession  of  an  inheritance,  worth  five  hundred  pounds 
sterling  per  annum.  When  the  estate  was  thus,  upon 
religious  principles,  surrendered,  I  was  about  five  years 
of  age;  but  having  frequently  heard  my  father  circum- 


14  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

stantially  relate  the  transaction,  as  I  advanced  in  life,  my 
bosom  often  acknowledged  a  latent  wish,  that  he  had  ac- 
cepted an  inheritance  to  which  his  natural  claim  was  in- 
dubitable, upon  the  terms  offered  by  the  ecclesiastics, 
which  were,  that  my  grandmother,  and  my  father,  should 
in  so  many  w^ords,  qualify  themselves  for  the  possession 
of  their  right,  while,  in  their  hearts,  they  continued  to 
judge  for  themselves.  But  from  a  conduct  so  question- 
able, the  guileless  heart  of  my  upright  parent  spontane- 
ously revolted;  and,  for  myself,  while  revolving  years 
gave  me  to  exult  in  his  decision,  the  dete(ition  of  so  rep- 
rehensible a  principle,  in  my  own  bosom,  and  at  so  early 
a  period,  originated  much  contrition.  Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing the  very  considerable  sacrifice  made  by  my  father,  his 
uniform  efforts  commanded  all  the  necessaries,  and  many 
of  the  elegancies  of  life.  His  children  multiplied;  four 
sons  and  five  daughters  augmented  his  felicities;  he  re- 
ceived from  nature  a  strong  mind,  his  parents  bestowed 
upon  him  a  good  education,  and  he  was  universally 
respected  and  beloved. 

The  parents  of  my  mother  were  well  known  to  me;  her 
father's  name  was  James  Rolt,  his  ancestors  were  all 
English;  he  was  in  early  life  a  bon-vivant,  and  even  when 
he  became  the  head  of  a  family,  his  reprehensible  pursuits 
were  nothing  diminished;  the  silent  suffering  of  his  wed- 
ded companion  were  strongly  expressed  in  her  wan  coun- 
tenance, and  broken  health.  The  circumstances  of  his 
conversion  from  dissipation  to  a  life  of  severe  piety  were 
rather  remarkable,  and  were  considered  in  his  day  as 
miraculous. 

Of  the  piety  of  my  paternal  grandfather,  or  my  maternal 
grandmother,  I  have  little  to  say.  I  have  never  heard  that 
they  allowed  themselves  in  any  improper  indulgencies, 
and  as  they  were  the  admirers  of  their  devout  companions, 
it  is  a  fair  conclusion,  that  they  were  at  least  negatively 
pious,  and  that  if  they  did  not  lead,  they  cheerfully  fol- 
lowed, in  cultivating  a  pious  disposition  in  the  minds  of 
their  children;  and,  by  consequence.  Religion  became 
the  legitimate  inheritance  of  my  immediate  parents. 
The  conversion  of  my  paternal  grandmother,  from  the 
tenets  in  which  she  was  educated,  increased  her  zeal, 
while  the  inheritance,  sacrificed  from  conscientious  prin- 
ciples, gave  her  to  consider  herself  more  especially  heir 
of  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth 
not  away ;  and  conscious  that  she  had  fully  concurred  with 
my  father,  in  depriving  their  children  of  a  temporal  trea- 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  15 

sure,  they  were  sedulously,  anxious  to  inculcate  a  per- 
suasion of  the  necessity  of  securing  another. 

It  is  wonderful,  that  while  it  was  the  great  business, 
both  of  my  father  and  mother,  to  render  their  children 
feelingly  solicitious  to  secure  an  interest  in  the  Redeemer, 
that  they  might  be  thus  entitled  to  a  blessed  and  happy 
futurity,  they  were  both  of  them  very  rigid  Calvinists. 

The  doctrines,  taught  by  that  gloomy  Reformer,  they 
undeviatingly  taught  to  their  family :  and  hence  my  soul 
frequently  experienced  the  extreme  of  agony.  Naturally 
vivacious,  to  implant  religion  among  my  juvenile  pleasures 
required  the  most  vigorous  and  uniform  effort.  Religion 
was  not  a  native  of  the  soil,  it  was  an  exotic,  which  when 
planted,  could  only  be  kept  alive  by  the  most  persevering- 
attention.  Hence  Religion  became  a  subject  of  terror.  I 
was  not  ten  years  old  when  I  began  to  suffer;  the  discov- 
ery of  my  sufferings  gave  my  fond  father  much  pleasure; 
he  cherished  hope  of  me  when  he  found  me  suffering  from 
my  fears,  and  much  indeed  was  I  tortured  by  the  severe 
unbending  discipline  of  my  father,  and  the  terrifying  ap- 
prehensions of  what  I  had  to  expect  from  the  God  wha 
created  me.  The  second  son  of  my  parents  was  naturally 
of  a  pensive,  gloomy  disposition.  He  was  more  piously 
disposed,  and  less  fond  of  amusement  than  myself,  and 
hearing  much  of  Cain  as  the  eldest  son  of  Adam,  of  Esau 
as  the  eldest  son  of  Isaac,  and  of  Abel  and  Jacob  as  the 
younger  sons,  my  soul  was  frequently  filled  with  terror, 
verily  believing  my  brother  was  the  elected,  and  myself 
the  rejected  of  God.  This  appalling  consideration,  even 
at  this  early  period,  frequently  devoted  my  days  and  nights 
to  tears  and  lamentation.  But  stability  dwelt  not  with 
me,  and  the  pleasing  expectationsof  my  father  were  often 
blasted;  my  attachment  to  my  playmates,  and  their  child- 
ish gambols  revived,  and  when  engaged  in  appropriate 
amusements,  I  often  forgot  the  immediate  terror  of  the 
rod,  and  of  future  misery;  both  of  which,  as  often  as  I 
reflected,  I  painfully  believed  I  should  endure.  My  father 
took  every  method  to  confine  me  within  his  walls :  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  prevailed  upon  himself  to  permit  my 
attendance  at  school,  yet  this  was  necessary,  and  to  school 
I  must  go;  while  that  rigid  and  extreme  vigilance,  which 
was  ever  upon  the  alert,  produced  effects  diametrically 
opposite  to  the  end  proposed.  My  appetite  for  pleasure 
increased,  and  I  occasionally  prefered  the  truant  frolic, 
to  the  stated  seasons  of  study,  yea,  though  I  was  certain 
severe  castigation  wt>uld  be  the  consequence.  Pious  sup- 
plications were  the  accompaniments  of  the  chastisements 


16  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

which  were  inflicted,  so  that  I  often  passed  from  the  ter- 
ror of  the  rod,  to  the  terrifying  apprehensions  of  future 
and  never-ending  misery.  Upon  these  terrific  occasions, 
the  most  solemn  resolutions  were  formed,  and  my  vows 
were  marked  by  floods  of  tears.  I  would  no  more  offend 
either  my  father,  or  his  God;  I  dared  not  to  say  my  God, 
for  I  had  heai'd  my  father  declare,  that  for  any  individual, 
not  the  elect  of  God,  or  to  say  of  God,  or  to  God,  '  Our 
Father,'  was  nothing  better  than  blasphemy:  when- 
most  devout,  I  was  prevented  from  deriving  consolation 
from  my  pious  breathings,  by  a  persuasion  that  I  was  a 
reprobate,  predestined  to  eternal  perdition.  In  fact,  I 
believed  that  I  had  nothing  to  hope,  but  every  thing  to 
fear,  both  from  my  Creator,  and  my  father;  and  these 
soul-appalling  considerations,  by  enforcing  a  conclusion, 
that  I  was  but  making  provision  for  alternate  torture, 
threw  a  cloud  over  every  innocent  enjoyment. 

About  the  time  that  I  attained  my  eleventh  year,  my 
father  removed  to  Ireland,  and  though  I  dreaded  going 
with  him  any  where,  I  was  the  only  individual  of  the 
family  whom  he  compelled  to  accompany  him.  Yet  I 
was  captivated  by  the  charms  of  novelty.  London  filled 
me  with  amazement,  and  my  fond,  my  apprehensive  father, 
was  in  continual  dread  of  losing  me;  while  the  severity 
he  practised  to  detain  me  near  him,  by  invigorating  my 
desires  to  escape  from  his  presence,  increased  the  evil. 

We  quited  London  in  the  middle  of  April,  and  reaching 
Bristol,  tarried  but  a  little  while  in  that  city.  At  Pill,  five 
miles  from  Bristol,  between  my  father  and  myself,  a  final 
separation  was  on  the  point  of  taking  place.  In  the  Bris- 
tol river  the  tide  is  extremely  rapid;  I  stepped  into  a  boat 
on  the  slip,  and  letting  it  loose,  the  force  of  the  current 
almost  instantly  carried  it  oflfinto  the  channel,  and  had  it 
been  ebh  instead  oi flood  tide,  I  must  inevitably  have  gone 
out  to  sea,  and  most  probably  should  never  have  been 
heard  of  more:  but  the  flood  tide  carried  me  with  great 
rapidity  up  the  river,  and  the  only  fear  I  experienced  was 
from  the  effects  of  my  father^s  indignation.  The  poor 
gentleman,  with  a  number  of  compassionate  individuals, 
were  engaged,  until  almost  twelve  o'clock,  in  searching 
the  town,  and  the  harbor,  and  had  returned  home  relin- 
quishing every  hope  of  my  restoration.  In  the  midst  off 
the  stream  I  found  a  large  flat-bottomed  boat  at  anchor, 
to  which,  making  fast  the  boat  I  was  in,  I  consequently 
proceeded  no  farther.  At  midnight,  I  heard  voices  on 
the  side  of  the  river,  when,  earnestly  imploring  their  aid, 
and  offering  a  liberal  reward,  they  came  in  their  boat, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  17 

and,  conveying  me  on  shore,  conducted  me  to  my  lodg- 
ings; but  no  language  can  describe  my  dismay,  as  I  drew 
near  my  father,  who  was  immediately  preparing  to  ad- 
minister the  deserved  chastisement^  when  the  benevolent 
hostess  interposed,  and  in  pity-moving  accents  exclaimed : 
*  Oh,  for  God's  sake  let  the  poor  Blood  alone^  I  warrant 
he  has  suffered  enough  already.'  My  father  was  softened^ 
perhaps  he  was  not  displeased  to  find  a  pretence  for  mild- 
ness: he  gave  m.e  no  correction  for  this  offence^  he  even 
treated  me  with  unusual  kindness.  We  were  detained 
in  Pill  three  weeks,  wishing  for  a  favorable  wind,  three 
weeks  more  at  Minehead,  and  three  weeks  at  Milford  Ha- 
ven. Thus  we  were  nine  weeks  in  performing  a  passage, 
which  is  commonly  made  iri  forty-eight  hours,  and  instead 
of  my  father's  reaching  Cork  before  the  residue  of  his 
family,  they  were  there  almost  at  the  moment  of  our  ar- 
rival. In  Cork  we  were  at  home.  There  dwelt  the  re- 
spected mother  of  my  father,  and  in  easy  circumstances; 
many  changes,  however,  had  taken  place  in  her  family, 
although  the  remains  of  affluence  were  still  visible.  My 
father  fixed  his  residence  in  the  vicinity  of  this  city,  and 
a  most  pleasing  residence  it  proved. 

About  this  time  the  Methodists  made  their  appearance, 
and  my  father  was  among  the  first  who  espoused  their 
cause.  His  zeal  for  vital  religion  could  hardly  be  sur- 
passed; and  it  appeared  to  him  that  this  innate,  and  holy 
operation,  rejected  by  every  other  sect,  had  found  refuge 
in  the  bosoms  of  these  exemplary  people.  But,  though 
my  father  espoused  the  cause,  he  did  not  immediately  be- 
come a  Methodist:  the  Methodists  were  not  Calvinists.. 
Yet,  if  possible,  he  doubled  his  diligence;  he  kept  his 
family  more  strict  than  ever;  he  was  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  saint,  and  became  the  only  person  in  his  vicinity, 
whom  the  Methodists  acknowledged  as  truly  pious.  With 
the  religion  of  the  Methodists  I  was  greatly  enamored;, 
they  preached  often,  and  in  the  streets;  they  had  private 
societies  of  young  people,  and  sweet  singing,  and  a  vast 
deal  of  it,  and  an  amazing  variety  of  tunes, — and  all  this 
was  beyond  expression  charming.  At  this  period  the 
health  of  my  father  began  to  decline.  Physicians  con- 
curred in  opinion,  that  his  complaints  indicated  a  pulmo- 
nary affection.  Again  his  efforts  were  renewed  and  in- 
vigorated, and,  poor  gentleman,  his  labors  were  abun- 
dantly multiplied.  The  ardent  desire  of  his  soul  was  to> 
render  every  individual  of  his  family  actively  religious,, 
and  religious  in  his  own  way;  but  as  his  children  neces- 
sarily mingled  more  or  less  with  the  children  in  the  neigh- 


18  LIFE    or    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

borhood,  they  caught  words  and  habits  Avhich  he  disliked, 
and  application  was  made  to  the  rod,^  as  a  sovereign 
panacea. 

In  the  coui'se  of  my  twelfth  year,  my  father  was  over- 
taken by  a  very  heavy  calamity;  his  house,^  his  houses, 
and  indeed  almost  every  thing  he  possessed,,  were  laid  m 
ashes.  He  had  only  a  moment  to  snatch  to  his  bosom  a 
sleeping  infant  from  its  cradle,  when  a  part  of  the  house 
fell  in;  an  instant  longer  and  they  would  both  have  been 
wrapped  in  the  surrounding  flames;  and  a  deep  sense  of 
this  preserving  mercy  accompanied  him  to  his  grave. 
Thus  every  event  of  his  life  seemed  to  combine  to  render 
his  devotions  more  and  more  fervent.  It  was  happy  for 
us  that  my  respectable  grandmother  still  lived,  whose  ex- 
tricating hand  was  an  ever  ready  resource. 

It  was  my  father's  constant  practice,  so  long  as  his 
health  would  permit,  to  quit  his  bed,  winter  as  well  as 
summer,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning;  a  large  portion 
of  this  time,  thus  redeemed  from  sleep,  was  devoted  to 
private  prayers  and  meditations.  At  six  o'clock  the  fami- 
ly were  summoned,  and  I,,  as  the  eldest  son,  was  ordered 
into  my  closet,  for  the  purpose  of  private  devotion.  My 
father,  however,  did  not  go  with  me,  and  I  did  not  always 
pray;  I  was  not  always  in  a  praying  frame;  but  the  de- 
ceit, which  I  was  thus  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  prac- 
tising, was  an  additional  torture  to  my  laboring  mind. 
After  the  family  were  collected,  it  was  my  part  to  read  a 
chapter  in  the  bible;  then  followed  along  and  fervent  prayer 
by  my  father;  breakfast  succeeded,  when  the  children 
being  sent  to  school,  the  business  of  the  day  commenced. 
In  the  course  of  the  day,  my  father,  as  I  believe,  never 
omitted  his  private  devotions,  and,  in  the  evening,  the 
whole  family  were  again  collected,  the  children  examin- 
ed, our  faults  recorded,  and  I,  as  an  example  to  the  rest, 
especially  chastised.  My  father  rarely  passed  by  an  of- 
fence, without  marking  it  hy  such  punishment  as  his . 
sense  of  duty  awarded;  and  when  my  tearful  mother  in- 
terceded for  me,  he  would  respond  to  her  entreaties  in 
the  language  of  Solomon,  '  if  thou  beat  him  with  a  rod, 
he  shall  not  die;''  the  bible  was  again  introduced,  and 
the  day  was  closed  by  prayer.  Sunday  was  a  day  much 
to  be  dreaded  in  our  family;  we  were  all  awakened  at 
eai*ly  dawn,  private  devotions  attended,  breakfast  hastily 
dismissed,  shutters  closed,  no  light  but  from  the  back  part 
of  the  house,  no  noise  could  bring  any  part  of  the  family 
to  the  window,  not  a  syllable  was  uttered  upon  secular 
affairs;  every  one  who  could  read,  children  and  domes- 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  19 

ties,  had  their  allotted  chapters.  Family  prayer  succeed- 
ed :  after  which,  Baxter's  Saint's  Everlasting  Rest  wag 
assigned  to  me;  my  mother  all  the  time  in  terror  lest  the 
children  should  be  an  interruption.  At  last  the  bell  sum- 
moned us  to  church,  whither  in  solemn  order  we  proceed- 
ed: I  close  to  my  father,  who  admonished  me  to  look 
straight  forward,  and  not  let  my  eyes  wander  after  vani- 
ty. At  church,  I  was  fixed  at  his  elbow,  compelled  to 
kneel  when  he  kneeled,  to  stand  when  he  stood,  to  find 
the  Psalm,  Epistle,  Gospel,  and  collects  for  the  day;  and 
any  instance  of  inattention  was  vigilently  marked,  and 
unrelentingly  punished.  When  I  returned  from  church, 
I  was  ordered  to  my  closet;  and  when  I  came  forth,  the 
chapter  from  which  the  preacher  had  taken  his  text,  was 
read,  and  I  was  then  questioned  respecting  the  sermon,  a 
part  of  which  I  could  generally  repeat.  Dinner,  as 
breakfast,,  was  taken  in  silent  haste,  after  which  we  were 
not  suffered  to  walk,  even  in  the  garden,  but  every  one 
must  either  read,  or  hear  reading,  until  the  bell  gave  the 
signal  for  afternoon  service,  from  which  we  returned  to 
private  devotion,  to  reading,  to  catechising,  to  examina- 
tion, and  long  family  prayer,  which  closed  the  most  labo- 
rious day  of  the  week.  It  was  the  custom  for  many  of 
our  visiting  friends  to  unite  with  us  in  these  evening  ex- 
ercises, to  the  no  small  gratification  of  my  father;  it  is 
true,  especially  after  he  became  an  invalid,  he  was  often 
extremely  fatigued,  but,  upon  these  occasions,  the  more 
he  suffered,  the  more  he  rejoiced,  since  his  reward  would 
be  the  greater,  and  indeed  his  sufferings,  of  every  descrip- 
tion, were  to  him  a  never-failing  source  of  consolation. 
In  fact,  this  devotional  life  became  to  him  second  nature, 
but  it  was  not  so  to  his  family.  For  myself,  I  was  alter- 
nately serious,  and  wild,  but  never  very  moderate  in  any 
thing.  My  father  rejoiced  in  my  devotional  frames,  and 
was  encouraged  to  proceed,  as  occasion  was  given,  in  the 
good  work  of  whipping,  admonishing,  and  praying.  I 
continued  to  repeat  my  pious  resolutions,  and,  still  more 
to  bind  my  soul,  I  once  vowed  a  vow  unto  tho  Lord, — 
kissing  the  book  for  the  purpose  of  adding  to  its  solemni- 
ty,— that  I  would  no  more  visit  the  pleasure  grounds,  nor 
"'gain  associate  with  those  boys,  who  had  been  my  com- 
panions. Almost  immediately  after  this  transaction  I  at- 
tended a  thundering  preacher,  who,  taking  for  his  text 
that  command  of  our  Saviour,  which  directs  his  disciples 
to  '  swear  not  at  all,'  gave  me  to  believe  I  had  committed 
a  most  heinous  transgression,  in  the  oath  that  I  had  taken; 
nay,  he  went  bo  far  as  to  assure  his  hearers,  that  to  say, 


so  LIFE    07    REV.    JOHIT  MVBKJkT, 

*upon  my  word,*  was  an  oath,  a  very  horrid  oath,  since  it 
was  tantamount  to  swearing  by  Jesus  Christ,  inasmuch 
as  he  was  the  word,  who  was  made  flesh  far  us  and  dwelt 
among  us.  This  sermon  rendered  me  for  a  long  season 
truly  wretched,  while  I  had  no  individual  to  whom  I 
could  confide  my  distresses.  To  my  father  I  dared  not 
even  name  my  secret  afflictions,  and  my  mother,  as  far 
as  the  tenderness  of  her  nature  would  permit,  was  in 
strict  unison  with  her  venerated  husband.  The  depres- 
sion of  my  spirits  upon  this  occasion  was  great,,  and  en- 
during; but  for  revolving  months  I  continued  what  they 
called  a  good  boy,  I  was  attentive  to  my  book,  carefully 
following  the  directions  that  were  given  me,  and  on  my 
return  from  school,  instead  of  squandering  the  hours  of 
intermission  with  idle  associates,  I  immediately  retired 
to  the  garden,  which  constituted  one  of  the  first  pleasures 
of  my  life;  in  fact,  the  cultivation  of  fruits,  and  flowers, 
has,  in  every  period  of  my  existence,  continued  to  me  a 
prime  source  of  enjoyment.  My  paternal  grandmother 
was  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the  parish;  having  made  it  her 
study,  she  became  an  adept  in  the  distillation  of  simples; 
she  had  a  large  garden  adjoining  to  my  father's  and  she 
cultivated  an  amazing  variety  of  plants.  As  I  was  her 
favorite  assistant,  she  gradually  obtained  my  father's  per- 
mission, that  I  should  appropriate  to  her  a  large  part  of 
my  time,  and  the  hours  which  I  consequently  devoted  to 
this  venerable  lady,  in  her  garden,  and  in  her  habitation, 
were  to  me  halcyon  hours.  It  was  my  study  to  enrich 
her  grounds  with  every  choice  herb,  or  flower,  which 
met  my  gaze,>  and  I  was  ever  on  the  alert  to  collect  plants 
of  the  most  rare  description.  This  was  confessedly  an 
innocent  amusement;  it  would  bear  reflection,  and  was 
therefore  delightful.  Alas !  alas !  it  was  too  replete  with 
felicity  to  be  continued.  I  was  soon  compelled  to  relinquish 
my  pleasant  occupation.  My  father  found  it  necessary 
to  remove  from  the  neighborhood  of  his  mother,  and  her 
garden  no  more  bloomed  for  me. 

We  were  speedily  established  in  the  vicinity  of  a  noble- 
man's seat,  in  which  was  instituted  an  academy  of  high 
reputation.  It  was  under  the  direction  of  an  Episcopalian 
clergyman,  who,  being  well  acquainted  with,  and  much 
attached  to  my  father,  had  frequent  opportunities  of  hear- 
ing me  recite  many  chapters  from  the  bible,  which  I  had 
committed  to  memory,  and  becoming  fond  of  me,  he 
earnestly  importuned  my  father  to  surrender  me  up  to 
his  care.  '  He  shall  live  in  my  family,'  said  he;  'he  shall 
be  unto  me  as  a  son,  I  will  instruct  him,  and  when  op- 


LIFE    OF    RET.    JOHN    MtTRRAY.  SI 

portunity  offers,  he  shall  become  a  member  of  the  Uni- 
versity :  he  has  a  prodigious  memory,  his  understanding 
needs  only  to  be  opened,  when  he  will  make  the  most 
rapid  progress.'  But  my  father,  trembling  for  my  spirit- 
ual interest,  if  removed  from  his  guardian  care,  returned 
to  this  liberal  proposal  the  most  unqualified  negative,  and 
my  writing-master  immediately  sought,  and  obtained  the 
situation  for  his  son,  who  was  about  my  age.  In  this 
academy  many  nobleman's  sons  were  qualified  for  Trinity 
College,  Dublin,  and  in  a  few  years  one  of  those  ennobled 
students,  selected  my  fortunate  schoolmate  as  a  compan- 
ion; he  passed  through  Trinity  College,  and  received  its 
honors,  from  which  period  I  never  again  beheld  him,  un- 
til I  saw  him  in  a  pulpit  in  the  city  of  London. 

Though  my  social  propensities,  at  every  period  of  my 
life  greatly  predominated,  yet  the  close,,  attention  paid  me 
by  my  father,  greatly  abridged  every  enjoyment  of  this 
description.  Yet  I  did  form  one  dear  connection,  with 
whom  I  held  sweet  converse.  But  of  the  society  of  this 
dear  youth  I  was  soon  deprived.  Recalled  by  his  family, 
he  was  to  leave  town  upon  a  Sunday  morning,  and  in- 
stead of  going  to  church,  I  took  my  way  to  his  lodgings, 
for  the  purpose  of  bidding  him  a  last  farewell.  1  he  ill 
health  of  my  father  prevented  him  from  attending  church 
on  that  day,  but  tidings  of  my  delinquency  were  conveyed 
to  him  by  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance,  and  my  pun- 
ishment, as  I  then  believed,  was  more  than  proportioned 
to  my  fault.  Still,  however,  I  had  sufficient  hardihood 
to  run  great  hazards.  A  review  of  several  regiments  of 
soldiers  was  announced;  I  could  not  obtain  leave  to  be 
present,  yet,  for  the  purpose  of  witnessing  a  sight  so 
novel,  I  was  determined  to  take  the  day  to  myself;  I 
suffered  much  through  the  day  from  hunger,  and  I  antici- 
pated my  reception  at  home.  In  the  evening,  I  stopped 
at  a  little  hut,  where  the  homely  supper  smoked  up- 
on the  frugal  board;  the  cottagers  had  the  goodness 
to  press  me  to  partake  with  them;  my  heart  blessed 
them;  I  should,  like  Esau,  I. 
had  it  been  mine  to  bestow, 
but,  blessings  on  the  hospitable  inhabitants  of  this  island, 
they  make  no  demands  either  upon  friend,  or  stranger; 
every  individual  is  welcome  to  whatever  sustenance  either 
their  houses  or  their  huts  afford.  I  sat  down,  and  I  ate 
the  sweetest  meal  I  ever  ate  in  my  life,  the  pleasure  of 
which  1  have  never  yet  forgotten,  although  the  paternal 
chastisement,  which  followed,  was  uncommonly  severe. 

The  time  now  approached  when  it  was  judged  neces-* 


SS  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.. 

sary  I  should  engage  in  some  business,  by  which  I 
might  secure  the  neccessaries  of  life.  The  conscience 
of  my  father  had  deprived  me  of  an  estate,  and  of  a  col- 
legiate education,  and  it  was  incumbent  upon  him  to 
make  some  provision  for  me.  But  what  was  to  be  doner 
If  he  sent  me  abroad,  I  should  most  unq[ue8tionably  con- 
tract bad  habits.  Well  then,  he  would  bring  me  up  him- 
self; but  this  was  very  difficult.  He  had  for  some  time 
thrown  up  business,  and  new  expenses  must  be  incur- 
red. Finally,  however,  I  commenced  my  new  career, 
and  under  the  eye  of  my  pains-taking  father.  I  did  not 
however  like  it;  yet  I  went  on  well,  and,  dividing  my 
attention  between  my  occupation  and  my  garden,  J  had 
little  leisure.  It  was  at  this  period  I  began  once  more  to 
experience  the  powerful  operation  of  religion,  and  secret 
devotion  became  my  choice.  Perhaps  no  one  of  my  age 
ever  more  potently  felt  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  Religion. 
The  Methodists  had  followed  us  to  our  new  situation, 
and  they  made  much  noise;  they  courted,  and  obtained 
the  attention  of  my  father,  and  he  now  joined  their  society.. 
They  urged  him  to  become  a  preacher;^  but  his  great  hu- 
mility, and  his  disbelief  of  Arminianism  were  insupera- 
ble bars.  He  was  nevertheless  a  powerful  assistant  to- 
the  Methodists.  Mr.  John  Wesley  was  a  great  admirer 
of  my  father,  and  he  distinguished  him  beyond  any  indi- 
vidual in  the  society;  perseveringly  urging  him  to  be- 
come the  leader  of  a  class,  and  to  meet  the  society  in  the 
absence  of  their  preachers :  to  all  which  my  father  con- 
sented. I  think  I  bave  before  observed,  that  I  was  de- 
Voted  to  the  Methodists,  and  for  the  very  reason  that  render- 
ed my  father  apprehensive  of  them, — they  were  very  so-y 
cial.  The  Methodists  in  this,  as  in  every  other  place, 
where  they  sojourned,  by  degrees  established  a  perma- 
nent residence.  They  first  preached  in  the  streets, 
practised  much  self-denial,  and  mortification,  inveighed 
against  the  standing  religion  of  the  country,  as  impious 
and  hypocritical,  declaring  the  new  birth  only  to  be 
found  among  them.  To  this  general  rule,  they,  how- 
ever, allowed  my  father  to  be  an  exception ;  and  his  open 
espousal  of  their  cause  contributed  greatly  to  building 
them  up.  They  gained  many  proselytes :  it  became  the 
fashion  for  multitudes  to  become  religious;  and  it  is  i» 
religion  as  in  every  thing  else,  where  once  it  is  followed 
by  a  multitude,  multitudes  will  follow.  The  very  child- 
ren became  religious.  A  meeting-house  was  speedily  ob- 
tained, a  society  was  formed,  and  classes  of  every  de- 
scription regularly  arranged.    There  was  one  class  of 


UFE   OC    REV.    JOHN   MURRiLY.  1^ 

boys^  it  consisted  of  forty,  and  Mr.  John  Wesley  appoint- 
ed me  their  leader.  Twice  in  the  course  of  every  week 
this  class  met  in  a  private  apartment.  The  business  of 
the  leader  was  to  see  that  the  members  were  all  present; 
for  this  purpose  he  was  furnished  with  a  list  of  their 
names,  and  when  they  were  all  assembled,  the  leader  be- 
gan by  singing  a  hymn.  I  was  once  pronounced  a  good 
singer,  and  although  I  never  had  patience  to  learn  mu- 
sic by  note,  I  readily  caught  every  tune  I  heard,  and  my 
notes  were  seldom  false,  I  repeat,  that  I  was  delighted 
with  the  music  introduced  by  the  Methodists.  I  collect- 
ed their  most  enchanting  tunes,  and  singing  them  fre- 
quently in  my  class,  I  obtained  much  applause.  Prayer 
succeeded  the  hymn;  I  was  accustomed  to  extemporary 
prayer;  I  had  usually  prayed  in  sincerity,  and  my  devo- 
tion upon  these  occasions  was  glowing  and  unfeigned. 
Examination  followed  the  prayer;  I  examined  every  indi- 
vidual separately,  respecting  the  work  of  God  upon  his 
heart,  and  both  the  questions,  and  responses,  evinced 
great  simplicity,  and  pious  sincerity.  A  word  of  gene- 
ral advice  next  ensued,  a  second  hymn  was  sung,  and  the 
whole  concluded  with  prayer.  This  was  a  most  delight 
ful  season,  both  for  my  parents,  and  myself.  I  became 
the  object  of  general  attention:  my  society  was  sought 
by  the  grey-headed  man,  and  the  child.  My  experience 
was  various,  and  great;  in  fact,  I  had  experienced  more 
of  what  is  denominated  the  work  of  God  upon  the  heart, 
than  many,  I  had  almost  said  than  any,  of  my  seniors, 
my  parents  excepted.  Devout  persons  pronounced  that 
I  was,  by  divine  favor,  destined  to  become  a  burning 
and  a  shining  light;  and  from  these  flattering  appear- 
ances my  father  drew  much  consolation.  I  was  frequent- 
ly addressed,  in  his  presence  as  the  child  of  much 
watching,  and  earnest  prayer;  this,  to  my  proudly-pious 
parent  was  not  a  little  flattering;  it  was  then  that  I  de- 
rived incalculable  satisfaction,  from  these  very  legible 
marks  of  election :  And  though  the  Methodists  insisted, 
that  the  doctrine  of  election,  before  repentance  and  faith, 
was  a  damnable  doctrine;  yet  they  admitted,  that,  after 
the  manifestation  of  extraordinary  evidences,  the  indi- 
vidual, so  favored,  was  unquestionably  elected.  Thus, 
by  the  concurrent  testimonies  of  Calvinists  and  Armin- 
ians,  I  was  taught  to  consider  myself  as  distinguished, 
and  chosen  of  God;  as  certainly  born  again.  Yet,  as  it 
was  next  to  impossible  to  ascertain  the  moment  of  my 
new  birth,  I  became  seriously  unhappy,  but  from  thisun- 
happiness  I  was  rescued,  by  reading  accounts  of  holy 


94  MPE    OF   REV»    JOHN    MURRAT. 

and  good  men  in  similar  circumstances;  I  now  therefore 
lived  a  heaven  upon  earth,  beloved,  caressed,  and  ad- 
mired. No  longer  shut  up  under  my  father's  watchful 
care,  I  was  allowed  to  go  out  every  morning  at  five 
o'clock  to  the  house  of  public  worship;  there  I  hymned 
the  praises  of  God,  and  united  in  fervent  prayer  with  the 
children  of  the  faithful :  meeting  several  of  my  young 
admiring  friends,  we  exchanged  experiences,  we  mingled 
our  joys  and  our  sorrows,  and  by  this  friendly  intercourse 
the  first  was  increased,  and  the  second  diminished.  In 
all  our  little  meetyigs  we  were  continually  complaining 
to,  and  soothing  each  other,  and  these  employments  were 
truly  delightfbl.  The  mind  cannot  be  intently  occupied 
on  contrary  matters  at  the  same  time,  and  my  mind  being 
filled  with  devotion,  my  waking  and  my  sleeping  mo- 
ments were  invariably  engaged  in  religious  pursuits;  it 
was  in  truth  my  meat,  and  my  drink,  to  do  what  I  be- 
lieved the  will  of  my  heavenly  Father.  At  this  period, 
I  should  have  been  wrecked  upon  the  sand-built  founda- 
tion of  self-righteousness,  as  many  of  my  young  friends 
were,  had  it  not  been  for  the  unbroken  vigilance  of  an  ex- 
perienced and  tender  father.  He  saw  the  danger  of  too 
great  elation,  and  he  labored  to  keep  me  humble  in  my 
own  estimation,  '  You  now,  my  dear,'  said  he,  '  think 
you  know  every  thing;  but  when  you  really  attain  supe- 
rior information,  you  will  be  convinced  you  know  noth- 
ing.' This  assertion  appeared  to  me  extremely  paradoxi- 
cal; but  I  have  since  learned  to  appreciate  its  rationality 
and  its  truth.  I  know  not  how  long  I  proceeded  in  this 
delightful  path;  nothing  from  within  or  without,  inter- 
rupted my  course,  and  I  well  remember,  that  I  fancied 
myself  on  the  verge  of  perfection.  I  saw,  or  imagined  I 
saw,  undeviating  rectitude  within  my  grasp.  I  was  con- 
scious of  no  wishes,  but  those  which  I  considered  the  le- 
gitimate offspring  of  the  religion  I  professed.  I  wonder- 
ed what  had  become  of  my  evil  propensities;  they  were 
however  gone,  and  I  believed,  they  would  no  more  re- 
turn :  my  days,  my  weeks  rolled  on,  uniformly  devoted  to 
pursuits,  which  created  for  me  unutterable  self-compla- 
cency. On  Sunday  morning  I  arose  with  the  sun,  and 
like  our  first  parent  in  a  state  of  innocence. 

Straight  towards  heaven  my  wondering  eyes  I  turned^ 
"  And  gazed  awhile  the  ample  sky." 

Thus  after  a  night  of  charmingly  refreshing,  and  undis- 
turbed repose,  with  spirits  innocently  gay,  I  arose,  wash- 
ed my  face  and  hands,  repeating  a  short  supplication, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  25 

which   my  father  never,   on  those   occasions,   omitted: 
*0,  Almighty  God,  vrho  hath  ordained  this  watery  ele- 
ment for  the  use,  and  support  of  nature,  by  which  I  am 
at  this  time  refreshed,  and  cleansed,  O !  purify  my  soul, 
by  the  operation  of  thy  blessed  spirit,  as  a  well  of  water 
springing  up  into  everlasting  life.'     I  then  retired  to  my 
closet,  offering  the  orisons  of  my  gladened   heart,  and 
habited  for  church.     I  sat  down  to  my  book,  until  my 
father  made  his  appearance,  when  the  family  being  sum- 
moned, and  the  morniAg  pra3^er  ended,  we  breakfastedj 
but  it  was  a  li^ht  repast;  and  soon  despatched.     At  eight 
o'clock,    I    attended    the    Methodist    meeting:    at    half 
past  nine,  I  returned  home,  and  devoted  the  time  to  read- 
ing, until  after  ten,  when  the  bell  summoned  me  to  chjurch, 
where  the  Methodists  at  that  time  attended;  at  church  I 
was  remarked  for  my  devotion.     From  the  church  I  re- 
turned to  my  closet,  after  which  1  read  the  Bible,  respond- 
ing to  the  interrogations  of  my   father,  relative  to  the 
sermon,  by  repeating  it  nearly  verbatim.     Dinner  over  I 
again  retired  to  my  closet;  from  which,  by  my  father's 
desire,  I  made  my  appearance,  to  read  for  him  some  de- 
votional book,  until  the  bell  again  commanded  my  attend- 
ance upon  public  worship;  but,  to  my  great  consolation, 
I  had  not,  when  I  returned  home,as  on  Sunday  sketched  in 
a  former  page,  to  spend  the  residue  of  the  day  in  sadden- 
ing glooms :  at  five  o'clock,  the  Methodist  meeting  again 
opened,  to  which  the  multitude  flocked;  there  I  saw,  and 
there,   with  affectionate   admirartion,  I  was  seen;  there, 
when  the  terrors  of  law  were  exhibited,  I  was  delighted 
by  the  assurance  of  eternal  security  therefrom;  and  there, 
when  the  children  of  the  Redeemer    were  addressed  in 
the  soothing  and  plausive  strains  of  consolation,  my  heart 
throbbed  with  pleasure,  and  tears  of  transport  copiously 
evinced  the  rapture  of  my  soul.     Society  meeting  suc- 
ceeded the  close  of  public  service;  three  classes  of  the 
people  were  denominated  Methodists :  The  congregation, 
who,  as  outer-court  worshippers,  were  only  hearers,  and 
seekers;  members  of  the  society,  who  were  classed;  and 
members  of  the  band  society,  who  were  genuine  believers. 
The  two  latter  met  every  Sunday  evening  after  meetings 
and  no  individual,  who  was  not  furnished  with  a  ticket, 
could  gain  admittance.     This  ticket  was  a  badge  of  dis- 
tinction; it  gave  the  possessor  entrance,  all  others  were 
shut  out,  and  the  door  was  locked.     No  words  can  de- 
scribe my  sensations,  when  I  obtained  a  seat  inside  the 
closed  door;  when  I  listened,  while  the  preacher  in  a 
low  voice  addressed  the  children  of  God.     The  house 


26  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

was  not  unfrequently  filled  with  the  dissonant  sounds  of 
terror,  and  joy  issued  from  the  discordant  voices  of  those, 
who  were  in  the  valley,  or  on  the  mount.  From  this  so- 
ciety, I  returned  home,  to  unite  in  family  devotion,  re- 
peat the  fundamental  points  of  my  religion,  retire  to  my 
frivate  devotions,  and  then  to  bed.  Monday  morning, 
arose  at  five  o'clock,  and  after  the  same  preparation  as 
on  Sunday,  attended  meeting,  returned  to  breakfast,  oc- 
cupied myself  with  the  business  of  the  day,  until  dinner; 
and  after  dinner,  an  interval  passed  in  private  devotion, 
to  secular  affairs  again,  until  evening;  then  once  more  to 
the  Methodist  meeting,  returned,  attended  family  and 
private  devotions,  and  to  my  chamber:  often  not  to  rest, 
but  to  my  book,  till  midnight.  Thu&  was  my  time  spent, 
two  evenings  in  the  week  excepted,  which  were  devoted 
to  my  class,  and  one  night  in  the  week,  when  the  society 
assembled,  as  on  Sunday  evening;  but,  alas !  the  fervor 
of  spirit,  excited  on  those  occasions,  cannot,  in  the  nature 
of  things  be  very  durable.  There  were  individuals  in 
my  class  who  proved  uittoward,  they  began  to  be  weary 
in  well  doing;  this  was  a  source  of  sorrow,  the  first  I  had 
experienced  for  a  long  time;  added  to  this,  repeated  com- 
plaints reached  my  ear,  and  not  unfrequently  slanderous 
reports — reports  one  against  another!  This  tortured 
me;  I  consulted  the  preachers,  disputes  ran  high,  the  in- 
terposition of  parents  became  indispensable,  and  the 
class  was  broken ! !  This  was  a  severe  trial;  I  had  de- 
rived high  satisfaction  from  the  connexion,  and  from  the 
fame  which  it  had  bestowed  upon  me;  I  however  lost  no 
reputation;  it  was  generally  believed  I  had  performed 
my  duty,  and  that  no  boy,  beside  myself,  would  have 
kept  such  a  set  of  beings  together,  and  in  such  order  so 
long. 

1  his  was  a  season  replete  with  events,  which  possessed 
for  me  no  common  interest.  Constantly  in  society,  I  for- 
med many  attachments,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  the  love 
of  social  enjoyments  would,  like  Aaron's  rod,  sAvallow  up 
my  best  affections.  From  conviction  of  error,  I  sought 
retirement :  I  loved  reading  more  than  any  thing  else,  but 
I  sighed  for  variety,  and  as  the  full  soul  loatheth  the  honey 
comb,  I  began  to  sicken  at  the  constant  repetition,  of  devo- 
tional books.  My  father  read  history,  and  some  few 
novels,  but  he  took  special  care  to  secure  those  books  from 
his  children.  We  were  allowed  to  read  no  books  but  the 
bible,  and  volumes  based  upon  this  precious  depository  of 
whatsoever  things  are  good  and  excellent.  I  sometimes, 
however,  glanced  my  eye  ovw  my  father's  shoulder  and 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  27 

finding  Tom  Jones,  or  the  history  of  a  Foundling,  in  his 
hand,  the  elForts  at  conceahnent,  which  he  evidently  made, 
augmented  my  anxiety  to  read,  I  remember  once  to  have 
found  Clarissa  Harlovve  upon  his  table.  Hervy's  Medita- 
tions, and  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  were  not  interdicted 
books  and  their  plaintive  sadness  obtained  an  easy  admis- 
sion into  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  soul.  To  Milton  too 
I  gave  some  hours,  but  I  could  not  read  blank  verse,  nor 
did  my  father  wish  to  encourage  my  attempts  in  this  way. 
He  saw  I  had  too  strong  passion  for  novelty,  and.  he 
deemed  it  prudent  to  check,  me  in  the  commencement  of 
my  career.  ..._ 

Although  my  devotional  ecstacies  were  diminished,  yet^ 
I  was  steadily  attentive  to  my  religious  exercises,  and  I  ) 
believed  myself  daily  increasing  in  goods.  It  is  true  my  (^ 
life  was  as  variable  as^  the  weather;  sometimes  on  the  ] 
mount,  and  sometimes  in  the  valley,  sometimes  alive  t 
to  all  the  fervor  of  devotion,  and  sometimes,  alas!  very  | 
lifeless:  Now  rejoicing  in  hope,  and  anon,  depressed,  hjj 
fear.  ' 

The  preachers,  visiting  the  adjacent  villages,  often  re- 
quested my  father  to  permit  my  attendance  ;  his  consent 
delighted  me;  I  reaped,,  from  those  little  excursions, 
abundant  satisfaction,  and  the  preachers  being  my  elders, 
and  much  acquainted  with  the  world,  I  collected  from 
their  conversation  much,  to  instruct  and  amuse.  They 
were,  however,  young  men,  they  collected  young  com- 
pany, and  they  were  excellent  singers;  this  was  a  most 
pleasing  circumstance..  My  affections  naturally  glowing, 
I  soon  formed  strong  attachments  and,  the  craft  of  Mr.. 
Wesley  changing  his  candidates  with  every  new  quarter,, 
the  farewell  sermons  generally  dissolved  the  whole  con- 
gregation in  tears,,  and  my  bosom  was  often  lacerated 
with  many  and  deep  wounds. 

An  order  from  the  Bishop  now  arrived,  calling  upon 
the  people  to  prepare  for  confirmation,  and  young  persons 
were  directed  to  wait  upon  their  parish  minister  for  the 
requisite  instruction..  Although  the  Methodists  consider* 
ed  themselves  Episcopalians,  yet  they  were  detested  by 
the  clergy  of  that  church;  their  zeal  seemed  a  standing 
satire  upon  them;  and  their  indignation  was  proportioned 
to  the  progress  made  by  the  new  sect.  We,  however, 
presented  ourselves  as  candidates  for  confirmation :  though 
yorung,  I  was  pretty  generally  known,  and  it  soon  became 
evident,  that  I  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  my  minis- 
ter. No  question  was  proposed  to  me,  but  his  oblique 
reflections   were   abundant:  I   determined,  however,   to 


28  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

address  him;  and  one  day  v.dien  he  was  cautioning  those, 
who  were  honored  by  his  attention,  against  those  expecta- 
tions about  which  the  wild  enthusiasts  of  the  day  were 
fanatically  raving,  such  as  the  extraordinary  operations  of 
the  spirits,  &c.  &c.,  exhorting  them  to  consider  them- 
selves in  their  baptism  made  members  of  Christ,  and 
inheritors  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  I  ventured  to  ask: 
Did  I,  sir,  in  my  baptism,  receive  all  the  advantages?  In 
a  most  ungracious  manner,  he  replied:  'Undoubtedly.' 
Then,  sir,  allow  me  to  ask,  What  can  I  want  more?  Of 
what  use  is  confirmation?  '  What  do  you  mean  by  asking 
these  impertinent  questions?'  I  ask  for  information:  I 
came  hitherto  be  instructed.  'No,  you  came  here  to 
instruct  me;  you  want  to  see  your  patron,  John  Wesley, 
in  the  pulpit.  You  have  no  business  here.'  I  conceive, 
sir,  I  have  business  here;  I  am  one  of  your  parish.  I 
was  Avarned  to  attend,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
instruction;  and  to  whom  should  I  apply  but  to  my  minis- 
ter? He  deigned  not  to  answer  me,  but  when  we  again 
assembled,  I  observed:  I  remember,  sir,  when  we  were 
last  here,  you  toM  us,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  feeling 
operation  of  the  spirit  of  God;  I  request  therefore  to 
know,  how  we  are  to  understand  that  article  of  our 
church,  which  pronounces  the  doctrine  of  election  full  of . 
especial  comfort  to  all  godly  persons,  and  such  as  feel  in 
themselves  the  workings  of  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  ?  '  You 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  articles;  you  do  not  under- 
stand them.'  I-  should usuppose,  sir,  that  every  member  of 
a  church  had  something  to  do  with  the  articles  of  his 
church;  and  if  I  do  not  understand  them,  suffer  me  to 
come  to  you  for  information.  '  You  are  an  impertinent 
fellow,  and  if  you  thus  proceed,  I  shall  oixier  the  clerk  to 
put  you  out  of  the  church.'  You  may  order  me- out  your- 
self, sir;  only  tell  me  to  go,  and  I  will  instantly  depart. 
Not  another  syllable  was  uttered  to  me,  upon  this  occa- 
sion. But  upon  the  following  Sunday,  when  the  young 
people  of  the  congregation  were  again  to  be  catechised, 
I  appeared  with  the  rest,  and  our  teacher  uttered  a  severe 
and  pointed  sarcasm.  I  was  sufficiently  abashed  to  cover 
my  face  with  my  hat — ^vhen,  in  a  very  angry  tone  he 
commanded  me  to  depart  from  the  church,  he  would  suffer 
no  laughter  there.  I  assured  this  christian  preacher,  that 
I  did  not  laugh,  that  I  felt  no  disposition  to  laugh;  he  in- 
sisted, that  I  did,  and  with  great  confusion  I  withdrew 
from  the  altar;  but  waiting  for  him  in  the  porch  of  the 
church,  I  humbly  implored  his  pardon,  while  I  informed 
him,  that  he  had  done  me  much  wrong;  that  I  had  too 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    3IURRAY.  29 

sacred  a  veneration  for  the  place  I  vi^as  in,  to  deport  my- 
self unbecomingly  while  under  its  roof;  that  I  had  not 
the  smallest  inclination  to  mirth;  that  the  consideration 
of  his  denying  the  operation  of  the  spirit  upon  the  heart 
had  too  inuch  disturbed  and  grieved  me..  '  Well,  I  do 
still  say,  there  is  no  especial  operation  of  the  spirit:  I 
have  never  experienced  any  thing  of  this  description^ 
How  then,  suflier  me  to  ask,  could  you  say,,  when  yoa 
were  ordcvined,  that  you  felt  yourself  moved  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  take  upon  you  the  office  of  a  teacher?  'You 
know  nothing  of  the  matter,  you  are  very  impertinent. 
Many  vi^ere  standing  by,  who  seemed  pleased  with  the 
advantage  I  had  so  apparently  gained,  and,  while  thus 
remunerated  for  the  insult  I.  had  received,  I  returned 
home  in  triumph. 

Some  time  after,  as  I  was  passing  the  street,,  one  of  my 
acquaintance  asked  me,  if  I  knew  the  bishop  was  at  that 
moment  engaged,  in  confirming  the  young  people  of  our 
parish?  I  instantly  repaired  to  the  church,  and  to  my 
great  surprise,  found  the  informjition  correct;  my  good 
priest  had  not  intended  I  should  be  apprized  of  the  busi- 
ness. I  advanced  however  to  the  altar,  and  presented 
myself  to  the  bishop..  My  priest  appeared  exceedingly  ir- 
ritated, and  made  a  communication  to  the  bishop,  in  a 
tone  too  low  to  be  understood  by  me;  but  his  lordship 
replied  aloud,  '  it  is  of  no  consequence  what  they  are, 
provided  they  understand  what  they  are  about.',  From 
this  reply  I  concluded  the  priest  had  accused  me  of  Meth 
odism.  It  happened,  that  I  was  the  first  of  the  circle 
presented  round  the  altar,  and  began  as  follows : 

Bishop.     What  is  your  business  here  ? 

Murray.  My  lord,  when  I  was  baptised,  my  sponsors 
promised,  in  my  name,  to  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his 
works,  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked  world,  with 
all  the  sinful  lusts  of  the  flesh.  They  engaged  also,  that 
so  soon  as  I  should  have  learned  the  creed,  the  Lord's 
prayer,  and  the  ten  commandments,  they  would  introduce 
me  to  this  ordinance;  as,  however,  they  have  neglected 
so  to  do,  I  beg  leave  to  present  myself. 

Bishop.     What  idea  have  you  of  this  ordinance? 

Murray.  I  conceive,  my  lord,  that  the  engagements 
entered  into  at  my  baptism,  cannot  be  fulfilled  without 
the  aid,  and  operation  of  the  spirit  of  the  Lord;  and  I  am 
taught  to  consider  this  ordinance  as  a  means  of  grace, 
through  which  I  may  obtain  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  so 
requisite  to  my  well  doing. 


so  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Bishop.     (With  a  softened  voice)  Have  you  ever  been 
at  the  communion? 

Murray.  Yes,  my  lord,  and  although  I  ventured  at 
first  with  tear,  and  trembling,  yet  deriving  there-from  real 
consolation,  I  have  never  since  absented  myself.  '  you  are 
right,  said  the  Bishop,  and  immediately  laying  his  hands 
upon  my  head,  he  prayed  for  me  with  the  greatest  appa- 
rent fervor.  Turning  to  a  lad,  who  stood  next  me,  he 
asked  him  the  same  question  he  had  previously  addressed 
to  me:  he  was  unprovided  with  an  answer.  'This  is 
astonishing,'  said  the  bishop;  'I  should  have  thought  you 
would  at  least  have  learned  to  answer  from  the  youth 
who  spoke  before  you;'  and  he  gave  my  pries-t  a  glance, 
which  called  the  blush  of  co;:ifusion  into  his  face.  I  was 
extremely  gratified,  so  were  my  friends  in  general,  and 
my  pious  father  in  particular.  Mr..  John  Wesley  now 
made  us  a  visit,  he  paid  me  the  most  distinguished  attention, 
and  the  regards  of  such  a  man  were,  to  a  young  heart, 
truly  flattering;  he  cherished  the  idea,. that  I  should  shortly 
become  a  useful  laborer  in  the  field,  which  he  so  sedu- 
lously cultivated.  One  thing,  however,  gave  him  anxie- 
ty,— the  probability  that  I  had  imbibed  my  father's  dam- 
nable principles,  for  such  he  denominated  the  Calvinistic 
tenets;  yet  he  hoped  better  things  of  me,  and  things 
which  accompanied  salvation.  When  in  my  father's 
house,  he  manifested  toward  him  the  greatest  kindness 
and  friendship;  but  on  leaving  the  country,  he  charged 
his  followers  to  keep  a  strict  watch  over  him,  lest,  through 
the  influence  of  his  great  piety,  he  should  infuse  his  abom- 
inable sentiments  into  the  minds  of  some  of  the  breth- 
ren. Mr.  Wesley's  disciples  considered  him  the  apostle 
of  the  age:  and  I  -experienced  a  reverential  awe  in  his 
presence;  yet  there  wei-e  points  in  his  conduct,  which  ex- 
cited my  wonder,  and  which,  in  any  other  character,  I 
should  not  have  hesitated  to  pronounce  wrong;  but  1 
should  have  believed  it  criminal  even  to  suspect  that  he 
could  err.  My  religion  was  becoming  more  and  more 
formal,  it  seemed  a  body  without  a  sovl.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  when  listening  to  a  lively,  warm-hearted  preach- 
er, I  was  made  most  keenly  to  feel  the  poverty  of  my 
condition;  that,  while  I  was  believed  rich,  and  increasing 
in  goods,  having  need  of  nothing,  I  was  in  truth  misera- 
bly poor,  blind  and  naked.  This  consideration  often 
rended  me  sad,  in  proportion  as  I  appeared  to  suffer:  I 
became  the  object  of  respectful  attention.  Glooms,  and 
melancholy,  were  considered  as  infallible  signs  of  a  gra- 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN    MURRAY".  SI 

cious  di^iposition,  not  only  by  my  father,  but  by  all  my 
religious  connexions.  One  of  our  preachers  used  to  say, 
he  had  rather  be  in  the  company  of  a  thousand  demons, 
than  ten  laughing  persons !  Unfortunately  for  the  main- 
tenance of  my  standing  in  the  society,  my  sadness  was 
not  uniform,  and,  preserving  no  medium,  I  always  be- 
came gay  in  full  proportion  to  my  previous  depression; 
and,  in  truth,  cheerfulness  was  becoming  the  prevailing 
temper  of  my  mind,  and  I  know  not  how  long  it  might 
have  continued  so,  if  I  had  not  observed,  to  my  great  con- 
sternation, that  I  was  daily  loosing  ground  in  the  estima- 
tion of  my  associates.  This  conviction  banished  my  dan- 
gerous vivacity,  and  restored  my  respectability.  I  now 
sedulously  avoided  society,,  and  frequently  envied  those 
who  were  released  from  this  dangerous  world.  I  have 
often,  after  a  night  of  suffering,  risen  with  the  dawn, 
and  entering  the  church-yard,  have  passed  hours  there, 
contemplating  the  happy  state  of  those  who  were  lodged 
in  their  narrow  house,  and  ardently  longed  to  be  as  they 
were.  Even  my  father  began  to  fear  that  I  was  rapidly 
declining,  and  by  his  consequent  tenderness  I  was  beyond 
expression  touched. 

I  cannot  now  determine  how  long  this  frame  of  mind 
continued,  but  this  I  know,  that  it  lasted  long  enough  to 
gain  me  more  reputation,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  than 
I  had  lost;  there  was  such  a  variety  in  my  feelings,  the 
changes  in  my  spirit  from  sad  to  gay,^  from  gay  to  sad, 
were  so  frequent,  that  I  had  of  course  far  more  experi- 
ence, than  any  other  person  of  my  age.  The  young, 
when  under  awakenings,  always  resorted  to  me  for  com- 
fort and  information,  while  the  old  hung  with  delight  on 
my  narrations:  the  prayers  of  my  father  obtained  due 
credit;  the  child  of  so  many  prayers  could  only  be  as  I 
Avas.  I  was  at  this  time  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  but 
commencing  life  so  early,  I  felt  like  twenty,  and  I  antici- 
pated all  the  enjoyments  which  awaited  me. 

About  this  period,  our  society  was  gratified  by  a  most 
unexpected  acquisition.  A  gentleman  of  great  fortune, 
who  had  been  a  virulent  opposer  of  the  Methodists,  be- 
came a  zealous  convert  to  their  tenets,  and  with  his  lady 
joined  our  congregation;  no  event  had  ever  given  such 
exultation,  such  complete  satisfaction.  They  had  be- 
longed to  the  Presbyterian  meeting,  and  their  numerous 
kindred,  worshipping  there,  continued  inveterate  adver- 
saries. Between  my  father  and  the  new  convert  the 
warmest  friendship  took  place;  and  his  good  lady,  who, 
was  indeed  one  of  the  first  of  women,  became  as  warmly 


S&  LirE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

attached  to  oar  family  as  her  husband.     They  had  been, 
converted  at  the  same  time;  and  as  new  converts  are 
always  the  most  zealous,  this  good  couple,  although  ad-- 
vanced  in  years,  used  to  rise  at  four  in  the  morning,  in 
the  depth  of  winter,  and  go  round  among  the  neighbors, 
in  order  to  arouse  them  in  time  to  attend  morning  service,, 
which  was  regularly  at  five  o'clock,  winter  and  summer; 
our  house  being  in  the  Avay,  they  never  omitted  calling 
upon  us;  my  father  was  not  always  well  enough  to  ac- 
company them,  but  I  never  failed,  and  the  delight  they 
took  in  me  was  great.     Their  family  consisted  of  two 
sons,  one  older  than  myself,  and  one  of  my  own  age,  and 
two  daughters  younger  than  their  brothers:  for  a  long 
season  this  family,  and  ours,  spent  at  least  a  part  of  every 
day  together;  they  met  constantly  at  church,  and  had 
beside  many  private  interviews.     Mr.  Little,  the  name 
of  our  new  friend,  belonged  to  a  class  of  which  my  father 
was  the    leader,  and  Mrs.  Little  to  my  mother's  band. 
The  classes  generally   consisted  of  twelve,   beside   the 
leader.     The  band  was  formed  from  the  classes,  and, 
consisted  of  six,  beside  the  leader.     These  bands  were 
composed  of  true  believers,  and  of  one  sex  and  condition : 
The  single  women,  the  married  women,  and  the  widows; 
the  single  men,  the  married  men,  and  the  widowers.     My 
mother  was  a  leader  of  a  band  of  married  women.     The 
youth,  I  have  mentioned  of  my  own  age,  sought  and  ob- 
tained my  confidence;  I  conceived  for  him  the  warmest 
affection,  and  I  had  every  reason  to  suppose  the  attach- 
ment mutual;  we  passed  many  delightful  hours  together, 
and  the  discovery  of  our  friendship  gave  real  satisfaction 
to  our  parents.     The  eldest  son  adhered  to  the  church, 
the  family  had  left;  and  the  only  daughter  who  was  of 
age  to  decide,  embraced  the  principles  of  her  parents. 
From  our  connexion  with  these  worthy  people,  I  derived 
great  pleasure;  I  was  much  beloved  by  the  principals  of 
the  family,  and  I  had  great  delight  in  the  society  of  their 
chil/iren.     I  have  frequently  retired  with  my  young  friend 
to  read,  and  pray :  we  had  in  fact  no  solitary  pleasures. 
It  was  in  the  closet  of  this  friend,  that  I  first  became  ac- 
quainted with  Addison,    Pope,  Parnel,    Thomson,   and 
Shakspeare;  we  read  those  writings  together;  never  shall 
I  forget  the  avidity  with  which  1  seized,  and  the  delight 
with  which  I  perused  those  authors;  I  was  beyond  ex- 
pression fascinated  by  their  numbers;  but  I  thought  best 
carefully  to  conceal  this  new  source  of  enjoyment  from 
my  father.     The  library,  to  which  I  thus  obtained  free 
access  was  very  extensive :  ■  besides  the  books  already 


LIFE    OF    REV..  JOHJf    MURRAY.  3© 

named,  it  contained  much  to  attract  a  young  mind;  novels, 
essays,  and  histories,  by.  a  frequent  perusal  of  which,  I 
was  both  informed  and  improved.     I'hus,  in  the  full  en- 
joyment of  sweet  serenity,  glided  on  many  happy  months; 
my  time  was  divided  between  the  habitation  of  my  father, 
and  his  friend..    1  enjoyed  the  warm  regards  of  every  inr 
dividual  of  this-  amiable  family,  the  eldest  son  excepted, 
nor  was  he  a  malignant  foe;  he  contented  himself  with 
making  a  jest  of  our  devotion,  which  only  served  to  attach 
us  more  closely  to  each  other :  but,  as  the  affection  of  the 
youngest  son  grew  for  me,  it  appeared  to  diminish  for  his 
brother.     This  fact  rendered  his  parents  unhappy,,  and  I 
myself  .was  seriously  afflicted,,  lest  I  should  be  regarded 
either  directly,  or  indirectly,  as  the  source  of  their  inqui- 
etude.    They,  however,  did  not  hesitate  to  impute  to  their 
eldest  son's  aversion  from  religion  every  thing  unpleasant 
between  their  children,  and  I  had  credit  for  my  full  share  of 
that  rectitude  and  correct  conduct,  to  which  their  young- 
est son  was,  by  nature,  so  uniformly  inclined.     It  must, 
however,  be  confessed,  that  the  first-born  was  not  without 
causes  of  irritation;   I  was   evidently  the  brother  of  his 
brother's  affection,  I  was  the  object  of  his  parents' regard, 
his  eldest  sister  discovered,  on  all  occasions,  a  very  strong 
partiality  for  me,  and  even  the  youngest,  a  child  of  about 
six  years  old,  made  me  the  confidant  of  all  her  little  se- 
crets, often  hung  about  my  neck,  with  infantile  fondness, 
while  her  sweet  endearments  were  precious  to  my  heart. 
It  was  not  then,  I  repeat,  very  wonderful,  if  the  young 
gentleman,  who  felt  himself  aggrieved^  should  become  very 
unhappy,  and  very  much  my  enemy.     While  I  was  thus 
considered  as  a  child  of  this  family,  a  young  lady,  a  dis- 
tant relation  of  Mrs.  Little,  was  introduced  as  a  visitor; 
she  also  .was  a  Methodist,  and  of  great  piety.     My  young 
friend  and  myself,  were  in  the  parlor  when  she  entered, 
but  soon  withdrew,  when  we  both  agreed,  she  was  the 
most  ordinary  young  woman  we  had  ever  beheld;  she 
was  I  presume,  more  than  twenty-five  years  of  age,  under 
the  common  stature,,  of  a  very  sallow  complexion,  large 
features,  and  a  disagreeable  cast  in  her  eye;.yet  this  same 
young  lady  had  not  been  more  than  three  weeks  under  the 
same  roof  with  us,  before  we  both  became  violently  in  love 
with  her.     Many  days  however  elapsed,  before  either  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  passion  of  the  other;  but  I  could 
never  conceal  any  thing  long,  especially  from  this  my  sec- 
ond self;  and  on  a  summer  evening,  as  we  pursued  our 
usual  walk  through  a  flowery  mead,  on  the  margin  of  a 
beautiful  river,  both  sadly  pensive  and  sighin^j  as  if  our 


34  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.. 

hearts  were  breaking,  my  friend  mournfully  inquired; 
*  What,  my  dear  Murray,  afflicts  you?,  why  are  you  so 
sad?'  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  I  cannot  tell  you  the  cause 
of  my  distress.  '  Not  tell  me !  would  you,  can  you  conceal 
any  thing  froni  me  ?'  I  felt  the  full  force  of  a  question, 
asked  in  a  tone  of  endearing  sympathy.  No,  my  friend, 
you  shall  be  made  acquainted  with  my  whole  heart;  I  will 
have  no  reserves  to  you;  but  you,  you  also  are  unhappy, 
and  I  am  ignorant  of  the  cause !  '  Depend  on  it,  I  shall 
not  hesitate  to  give  you  every  mark  of  confidence,  when 
you  shall  set  the  example.'  Well  then,  my  brother,  my 
friend,  will  you  not  wonder,  (and  indeed  I  am  myself  as- 
tonished) when  I  assure  you,  that  I  have  conceived  for 
Miss  Dupee  the  strongest  and  most  tender  passion !  He 
started,  appeared  confused,  and  for  some  moments  we 
both  continued  silent.  At  length,  taking  my  hand,  he 
said:  '  I  pity  you,  from  my  soul,  nor  do  I  bl'ame  your  at- 
tachment; for,,  however  unattractive  in  person,  who  that 
hears  Miss  Dupee  converse,  who  that  has  any  knowledge 
of  her  mind  J.,  can  avoid  loving  her,  even  as  you  love  her; 
and  to  prove  to  you  how  fully  I  am  qualified  to  sympathize 
with  you,  let  me  frankly  own,  that  I  also  love  this  charm- 
ing woman.'  This  unexpected  avowal  greatly  afflicted 
me:  I  trembled  lest  so  strong  a  passion  for  the  same  ob- 
ject, should  eventually  prove  fatal  to  our  friendship.  I 
expressed  to  this  dear,  amiable  youth  my  apprehensions, 
when  he  caught  my  hand,  and  with  glistening  eyes,  ex- 
claimed; 'Never,  my  brother,  no  never  shall  any  thing 
separate  between  thee  and  me.  By  first  communicating 
your  sentiments,  you  have  acquired  a. prior  right,  which 
I  will  not,  dar^  not  invade.  No  one  else  shall  hear  of 
my  infant  love;  I  will  not  allow  myself  to  see  her,  but 
when  seated  by  your  side;  and  although  I  love  her  more 
than  any  body  I  ever  have,  or,  as  I  believe  ever  shall  see, 
I  never  will  be  the  cause  of  your  unhappiness.'  This 
generosity  was;  truly  affecting.  I  caught  him  to  my  bo- 
som; I  wept,  I  even  sobbed  as  I  held  him  to  my  heart, 
and  unable  to  bear  his  superiority,. I  exclaimed:;  No,  my 
noble-hearted  friend,  never  will  I  accept  sach  a  sacrifice: 
we  are  yet  to  learn  for  which  of  us  her  heavenly  Father 
has  designed  this  treasure..  Let  us  both,  as  occasion  may, 
occur,  indulge  ourselves  in  her  society,^  and  should  the 
event  prove  that  you  are  the  highly  favored  mortal,  I  hope,, 
and  believe,  I  shall  willingly  resign  her,  and  content  my- 
self with  listening  to  her  heavenly  accents.  And,  truth 
to  say,  she  possessed  a  most  enchanting  voice;  a  most 
fascinating  manner,  admirably  calculated  to  gain  hearts, 


lifFfi    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  gg 

©specially  young  hearts,  simple,  and  softened  by  religion; 
and,  what  was  above  all  bewitching,  she  sang  the  most 
divine  of  Mr.  Wesley's  hymns  in  a  most  divinely  impres- 
sive manner.  While,  however,  we  were  mutually  ac- 
ceding to  this  Avise  plan  for  the  disposal  of  Miss  Dupee, 
it  never  once  entered  into  our  heads,  that  she  very  possi- 
bly was  not  designed  for  either  of  us.  Perhaps  few 
youthful  bosoms  have  ever  endured  a  greater  conflict  be- 
tween love  and  friendship :  We  experienced  both  in  no  com- 
mon degree,  but  friendship  in  both  our  hearts  became 
triumphant.  The  amiable  woman  continued,  for  some 
time,  decidedly  the  object  of  our  deliberate  election;  but  I 
had,  however,  reason  to  believe  my  attachment  the 
strongest,  for  it  deprived  me  of  both  rest  and  appetite. 
For  the  first  time  I  began  to  tag  rhymes :  I  have  sat  by 
the  hour  together  upon  an  eminence,  whence  I  could  be- 
hold her  habitation,  poetizing,  and  sighing,  as  if  my  heart 
would  break;  I  had  some  reason  to  believe  she  had  dis- 
covered, and  was  diverted  with  my  passion;  indeed  she 
must  have  laughed  at  me,  if  she  had  not  despised  me. 
After  a  long  struggle  between  my  hopes,  and  my  fears,  I 
ventured  to  address  a  letter  to  Miss  Dupee,  fiJled  with 
the  warmest  professions  of  eternal  affection,  and  conjur- 
ing her,  at  least  to  grant  me  leave  to  hope,  i  dared  not 
entrust  a  domestic  with  this  letter,  lest  it  should  be  dis- 
covered by  my  father,  for  the  dread  of  meeting  a  refu- 
sal from  my  mistress  was  not  more  terrible  to  my  imagi- 
nation, than  that  my  father  should  obtain  knowledge  of  my 
temerity.  One  night,  therefore,  returning  from  the  so- 
ciety, with  fear,  and  trembling,  1  put  my  letter  into  her  hand, 
humbly  requesting  she  would  honor  it  with  a  secret  perusal. 
She  took  it,  and,  gypsey  as  she  was  absolutely  pressed 
my  hand,  which  pressure  almost  suffocated  me  with 
transport;  I  parted  from  her  at  the  door,  and  from  that 
moment  neither  slept,  nor  ate,  till  I  was  cured,  radically 
cured.  It  was  upon  a  Wednesday  night,  I  delivered  my 
letter :  what  did  I  not  suffer  from  the  torture  of  suspense, 
until  Friday  evening;  nothing  could  I  hear  of,  or  from 
her;  I  was  afraid  to  go  to  Mr.  Little's,  I  feared  every 
thing,  but  the  thing  I  had  the  most  reason  to  fear — the 
contempt  and  indignation  of  my  own  father.  It  never 
once  entered  my  thoughts,  that  she  would  communicate 
my  letter  to  any  one,  and  least  of  all  that  she  would  ex- 
pose me  to  my  father;  but  instead  of  writing  me  an 
answer,  such  an  answer  as  my  fond,  foolish  heart,  some- 
times ventured  to  expect,  she  inclosed  my  very  first  love* 
letter,  to  the  very  last  person  in  the  world  to  whom  I 


36  LIFE  er  rev.  johk  iMtJiiRAy. 

should  have  chosen  to  confide  it !  I  was  at  this  time  de- 
bilitated by  the  want  of  rest  and  food,  which,  for  the  pre- 
ceding fortnight,  1  had  rarely  taken,  and  upon  this  Friday 
evening,  as  [  entered  the  presence  of  my  father,  an  un- 
usual dread  pervaded  my  spirits.  It  is  too  true,  I  never  ap- 
peared before  him,  without  apprehension;  but,  upon  this 
occasion  I  was  unusually  agitated:  but  how  were  my  terrors 
augmented,  when  my  father,  with  a  countenance  of  the 
most  solemn  indignation,  ordered  me  toapproach.  The  sea- 
son of  castigation  had  gone  by;  indeed- my  father  was  too 
feeble  to  administer  corporeal  chastisement;  but,  like  the 
Prince  of  Denmark,  although  he  did  not  use  daggers,  he 
could  speak  them — he  could  look  them.  I  cannot  now 
remember  who,  or  rather  how  many,'«were  present;  my 
mother,  and  my  brothers  and  sisters  of  course.  My  poor 
mother,  I  am  confident,  felt  keenly  for  me,  although  she 
dared  not  interfere.  '  Gome  hither,  sir,'  said  my  father; 
*  approach,  I  say.'  I  drew  near,  with  fear  and  trembling, 
but  yet  I  knew  not  why:  when, fixing  his  piercing,  pene- 
trating eyes  upon  me,  with  a  look  of  such  sovereign  con- 
tempt, as  almost  struck  me  blind,  he  began  very  delib- 
erately to  search  his  pockets;  after  a  pause,  which  seem- 
ed interminable,  out  came  a  letter.  I  was  instantaneous- 
ly covered  with  a  most  profuse  perspiration ;  I  trembled 
and  became  so  faint,  that  I  was  obliged  to  catch  at  a 
chair  for  support.  But  my  father  continued  slowly  open- 
ing the  killing  letter,  and  looking  alternately  at  it,  and 
its  author,  and  curling  his  nose,  as  if  his  olfactory  nerve 
had  been  annoyed  by  something  extremely  offensive,  he 
again  fixed  his  eyes  upon  me  and  tauntingly  said;  '  So, 
you  poor,  foolish  child,  you  write  love-letters,  do  you! 
you  want  a  wife,  do  you?'  and,  feigning  an  attempt  to 
read  it,  but  pretending  inability,  he  extended  it  to  me, 
saying:  'Take  it,  thou  love-sick  swain,  and  let  us  hear 
how  thou  addressest  thy  Dulcinea.'  I  burst  into  tears, 
but  I  confess  they  were  tears  of  wrathful  indignation,  and 
at  that  moment  I  detested  the  lady,  my  father,  and  my- 
self. '  Go,'  continued  my  father  '  Go,  thou  idle  boy,  de- 
part instantly  out  of  my  sight:'  and  out  of  his  sight  I 
accordingly  went,  almost  wishing  I  might  never  again 
appear  before  him.  This  night  I  parted  with  my  passion 
for  Miss  Dupee;  I  sighed  for  an  opportunity  of  opeii- 
ing  my  heart  to  my  ever  faithful  friend,  I  expected  cod- 
solation  from  him;  and  I  was  not  disappointed.  Suspect- 
ing the  business  was  the  subject  of  conversation  in  the 
house  of  Mr.  Little,  I  determined  to  go  thither  no  more: 
with  my  friend,  however,  I  took  my  usual  walk;  he  per- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  .ST 

ceived  the  sadness  of  my  soul,  but  it  was  a  consolation  to 
me  to  learn,  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  cause;  I  poured 
my  grief  into  his  bosom,  and  his  indignation  was  un- 
bounded; hatred  for  Miss  Dupee  grew  in  his  soul;  yet, 
when  I  knew  she  had  the  goodness  never  to  communi- 
cate my  folly  to  any  one,  but  my  father,  and  this  in  a  irp 
vate  letter,  I  could  not  but  esteem  her.  So  here  rested 
the  affair,  and  I  wrote  no  more  love-letters,  until  I  ad- 
dressed the  lady  whom  I  married.  Though  I  was  not 
by  this  torturing  business  exempted  from  la  belle  pas- 
sion, yet  I  was  prevented  by  my  fears  from  its  manifes- 
tation. In  fact  it  was  not  until  I  was  in  a  situation  to 
make  an  election,  as  I  supposed  for  life,  that  I  was  again 
condemned  to  struggle  with  a  sentiment  so  imposing,  as 
that  which  had  occasioned  me  so  much  vexation.  Many 
fair  faces  attracted,  and  for  a  time  fixed  my  attention, 
and  I  sometimes  looked  forward  to  the  brightest,  purest 
scenes  of  domestic  felicity,  which  were  however  as  vision- 
ary, as  could  have  been  conceived,  in  the  pericranium  of 
the  most  confirmed  lunatic. 

The  religious  melancholy,  so  pleasing  to  my  father, 
again  took  possession  of  my  mind;  once  more  at  early 
dawn  I  haunted  the  church-yard,  frequently  repeating  to 
myself, 

'The  man  how  blest,  who,  sick  of  gaudy  scenes^ 
Is  led  by  choice  to  take  his  favorite  walk 
Beneath  death's  gloomy,  silent  cypress  shades, 
To  read  his  monuments,  to  weigh  his  dust, 
Visit  his  vaults,  and  dwell  among  the  tombs.' 

The  intervening  hours  of  public  worship,  on  Sunday, 
were  passed  by  me  at  church,  in  appropriate  meditation 
and  prayer :  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  place  aided  my 
aspirations,  and  rendered  me  abundantly  more  gloomy; 
but  the  versatility  of  my  disposition  still  gave  me  to 
emerge,  and  I  was  then  proportionably  vivacious.  In  this 
zigzag  manner  I  proceeded,  gaining  something  every  day, 
while  I  enjoyed  a  fine  state  of  health,  and  the  happiness 
of  being  much  beloved  by  a  large  circle  of  respectable 
connexions.  I  still  continued  to  cultivate  my  garden;  it 
was  the  best  in  the  place,  and  being  seen  and  admired  by 
many,  my  pious  brethren  were  apprehensive  it  would  be- 
come my  idol;  but  we  all  have  our  idols.  Mr.  Wesley 
was  the  idol  of  the  niany..  One  evening  at  a  love-feast, 
when  the  whole  society  were  assembled,  a  pious  sister, 
while  ilarrating  her  experiences,  looked  earnestly  at  Mr. 
Wesley,  vehemently  exclaimed:  '  O!  sir,  I  consider  my- 
4* 


38  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

self  as  much  indebted  to  God  for  you,  as  for  Jesus  Christ! 
The  whole  company  were  greatly  surprised,  and,  as  I 
believe,  expected  Mr.  Wesley  would  have  reproved  her 
for  this  speech;  but  it  passed,  without  any  fAen  expressed 
observation.  The  ensuing  day  it  became  the  subject  of 
animadversion,  when  I  undertook  to  defend  her,  by  re- 
marking, that  as  she  never  could  have  had  any  advantage 
from  Jesus  Christ,  if  she  had  never  heard  of,  and  believed 
in  him;  she  certainly  was  as  much  indebted  to  Almighty 
God  for  sending  Mr.  Wesley,  through  whom  she  obtain- 
ed this  redeeming  knowledge,  as  for  the  Saviour,  in  whom 
she  believed  !  ' 

My  close  connexion  with  my  young  friend,  although 
very  pleasant  to  my  social  propensities,  subjected  me, 
nevertheless,  to  some  pain.  He  was  indulged  with  more 
pocket  money,  than  I  could  command;  and  although  he 
considered  his  stipend  never  so  well  employed,  as  when 
it  contributed  to  my  convenience,  yet,  disliking  depend- 
ence, I  had  recourse  to  methods  of  obtaining  money, 
which  did  not  always  please  me;  I  sometimes  borrowed, 
and  sometimes  solicited  gifts  from  my  mother,  which  I 
did  not  find  it  easy  to  repay.  It  would  have  been  well  if 
neither  my  companion,  nor  myself,  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  spending  money;  we  derived  there-from  no  advantage; 
it  introduced  us  into  company,  where  we  were  apt  to 
forget  ourselves;  it  is  true  we  were  never  inebriated,  but 
we  were  often  gay,  and,  for  religious  characters,  too  much 
off  our  guard.  This  dear  youth  was  not,  like  me,  habitu- 
ated to  religion,  he  was  not  early  disciplined  by  its  most 
rigid  laws;  I  could  with  abundantly  more  facility  turn 
^side  with  him,  than  he  could  pursue  with  me  the  nar- 
row path,  in  which  I  had  generally  walked.  We  became 
gradually  too  fond  of  pleasures,  which  would  not  bear 
examination;  yet  they  were  such  as  the  world  denomina- 
ted innocent,  although  they  strongly  impelled  us  to  grati- 
fications disallowed  by  religion.  We  were  now  fast  ad- 
vancing in  life,  and,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  we 
were  planning  schemes  for  futurity,  when  lo !  my  pre- 
cious, my  early  friend,  was  seized  by  a  malignant  fever, 
which  soon  deprived  him  of  his  reason.  I  was  on  the 
verge  of  distraction,  I  entreated  permission  to  tarry  con- 
stantly by  his  bedside;  the  progress  of  the  disease  was  as- 
tonishingly rapid,  and  in  a  few  days  this  dear,  this  amiable 
youth,  whom  I  loved  as  my  own  soul,  expired  in  a  strong 
delirium !  Every  one  regretted  the  departure  of  this  young 
man,  every  one  sympathized  with  his  parents,  and  many 
extended  pity  to  me.     I  was  indeed  beyond  expressior* 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  39 

wretched;  it  was  the  fo'st  calamity  of  the  kind,  which  I 
had  ever  been  called  to  suffer,  and  my  agonies  were  in 
full  proportion  to  the  strong  affection,  which  I  had  con- 
ceived for  the  deceased.     Society  no  longer  possessed  a 
charm  for  me,  and  yet  the  parents  of  the  dear  departed 
never  willingly  permitted  me  to  quit  their,  presence;  in- 
deed, the  love  they  had  borne  their  son,  seemed  to  be  en- 
tirely transferred  to  me;  but  their  sufferings  were  incal- 
culably augmented,  when,  in  a  few  succeeding  weeks, 
their  eldest  and  only  surviving  son,  fell  a  victim  to  the 
same  fatal  malady,  which  had  deprived  them  of  his  broth- 
er !     Never  before  did  I  witness  such  sad  and  heart-af- 
fecting sorrow:  a  gloomy  religion  is  always  increased  by 
scenes  of  melancholy,  hence  the  horrors  of  my  mind  were 
beyond  description.     Every  thing  I  had  done,  every  word 
I  had  uttered,  not  strictly  conformable  to  the  rule  of  right, 
returned  upon  my  mind  with  redoubled  terror,  and  in  the 
midst  of  these  agonizing  fears,  I  was  violently  seized  by 
the  same  fever,  which  had  destroyed  my  friend.     I  was, 
upon  the  first  appearance  of  this  mortal  disease,  exceed- 
ingly alarmed,  but  in  a  few  hours  it  prostrated  my  reason; 
my  mother  appeared  to  me  as  a  stranger,  and  although 
I  recognised  my  father,  I  was  not  afraid  of  him.     I  un- 
derstood every  thing  which  was  said  by  those  about  me, 
and  I  suffered  much  in  consequence  of  their  expressed 
apprehensions  arid-predictions :  and  I  have  often  thought, 
that  attendants  in  the  chamber  of  sickness  do  not  sufficient- 
ly consider  the  situation  of  the  suffering  patient,  or  the 
possibility,  that  the  freedom  of  their  remarks  may  aug- 
ment his  depression.     I  continued  to  linger,  in  the  midst 
of  extreme  torture,  through  many  weeks;  and  so  high 
and  unremitted  was  my  delirium,  that  my  parents,  from 
a  persuasion  that,  should  I  be  restored  to  health,  my  rea- 
son was  forever  lost,  were  reconciled  to  my  departure. 
One  particular  I  consider  as  astonishing;  every  thing, 
which  passed  in  my  mind  through  the  whole  of  this  pro- 
tracted delirium,  I  can  to  this  day  recollect  as  well  as  any 
event  which  has  taken  place  in  any  part  of  my  life.     Con- 
trary to  the  expectations  of  surrounding  friends,  I  was 
gradually  restored  to  perfect  health,  when  I  became  still 
more  endeared  to  the  parents  of  my  deceased  companion; 
they  would  have  laid  me  in  their  bosoms,  gladly  cherish- 
ing me  as  the  son  of  their  affection.     The  old  gentleman 
visited  my  father  every  day,  and  his  lady  was  equally 
intimate  with  my  mother.     I  wept  with  them,  I  prayed 
with  them,  and  every  day  our  mutual   attachment  ac- 
quired new  energy.     They  expressed  their  wishes  to  my 


4b 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 


father,  that  I  should  become  a  perm^^nent  resident  in  their 
family.  My  father  apparently  terrified,  was  unqualified 
in  his  rejection !  It  would  injure  me  by  too  high-raised  ex- 
pectations^ it  would  give  me  indulgences  fatal- to  my  future 
peace  and  happiness.  For  myself,  I  had  recently  enter- 
tained an  exalted  opinion  of  my  father;  and  for  his  re- 
peated, and,  as  I  once  believed,  severe  chastisements, 
gratitude  glowed  in  my  bosom;  consequently  I  was  not 
inclined  to  act  contrary  to  his  wishes  in  any  respect,  and 
he  had  sufficient  address  to  avoid  offending  his  friends. 
In  fact,  so  exalted  Avas  theJr  opinion  of  his  wisdom,  and 
piety,  that-they  would  have  considered  it  criminal  to  cen- 
sure him. 

I  v/as  now  the  very  shadow  of  my  father :  I  visited,  it  is 
true;  biit  it  was  always  under  his  guardian  care.  He  be- 
gan to  derive  pleasure  from  conversing  with  me,  and 
our  satisfaction  was  mutual :  still,  however,  I  experienc- 
ed, in  his  presence,  more  of  reverential  awe,  than  filial 
tenderness;  yet  I  gained  more  from  his  society  in  the 
last  six  months  of  his  existence,  than  I  had  for  many  pre- 
ceding years.  His  gradual  decline,  at  length,  rapidly  ad- 
vanced; suddenly  he  became  too  much  enfeebled  to  go 
abroad;  his  friends,  who  were  numerous,  visited  him 
frequently.  Mr.  Little,  and  lady,  were  almost  constantly 
with  him :  they  congratulated  him,  that  God  had  heard 
his  prayers,  and  given  him  a  son  to  supply  his  place, 
when  he  should  be  called  home;  this,  indeed,  he  consid- 
ered as  a  great  consolation.  Often  with  tears  of  pleas- 
ure has  he  wept  over  me,  solemnly  consecrating  me  by 
fervent  prayer  and  devout  supplication.  His  devotional 
exercises,  in  his  family,  were  continued  until  the  last 
week  of  his  existence;  even  when  his  voice  was  so  low, 
that  he  could  scarce  articulate  a  word,  we  were  drawn 
around  him,  when  in  whispers,  as  it  were,  he  would  in  the 
most  moving  manner,  address  the  throne  of  grace  in 
our  behalf;  and  for  me,  as  his  first-born  son,  his  orisons 
were  still  more  frequently  ofifered  up,  and  always  with 
tears.  For  many  years  my  father  had  lost  his  apprehen- 
sions of  death;  but  he  always  suffered  more  or  less  in  the 
dread  of  dying.  The  taking  down  the  house  of  his 
earthly  tabernacle, — the  agonies  of  dissolving  nature, — 
these  anticipations  frequently  appalled  his  soul.  We 
had  got  into  passion  week;  my  father  was  taken  from  his 
bed  every  day,  until  Good  Friday,  when  it  was  impress- 
ed upon  his  mind,  that  he  should  be  with  his  Redeem- 
er upon  Easter  Sunday.  He  indirectly  communicated 
this  assurance  to  my  mother;  commanding  me  to  be  im- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY  41 

mediately  summoned  to  his  presence,  when  he  thus  ad- 
dressed me:  '  My  son,  the  object  of  my  souls'  affection, 
for  whom,  during  many  years,  I  have  wept  and  prayed, 
you  see  your  weeping,  praying  father,  now  totally  unable 
to  utter  a  prayer,  nor  shall  I  ever  pray  in  this  dear  family 
again.  Let  me,  my  dear,  before  1  leave  you,  have  the  fe- 
licity of  seeing,  and  hearing  you  take  upon  you  the  char- 
acter you  will  very  speedilybe  called  to  sustain;  let  me  hear 
you  pray  in  tlie  family,  before  I  depart.'  There  was  some- 
thing teVrible  in  the  thought  of  his  departure,  though  we 
had  for  many  years  been  taught  to  expect  it,  not  only  by 
his  declining  health,  but  by  his  conversation, , which  had 
rendered  us  familiar  with  death.  I  cannot  remember  a 
day,  on  which  he  did  not,  on  his  first  appearance  in  his 
family  of  a  morning,  say, '  Blessed  be  God,  we  are  one  day 
nearer  our  eternal  rest:'  yet  the  thought  of  assuming  his 
place  in  his  family,  in  his  presence;  this  was  more  terrible 
to  me  than  death  itself;  I  became  convulsed;  a  cold  per- 
spiration was  diffused  over  my  frame;  my  father  saw  my 
agony,  and  bidding  me  sit  down,  took  my  hand,  and  ad- 
dressing me  in  the  language  of  sympathy,  most  affection- 
ately, most  tenderly  said; '  You  have,  my  poor  boy,  often 
addressed  your  heavenly  Father,  and  have  not  felt  abash- 
ed: ought  you  to  venerate  your  feeble,  earthly  father,  more 
than  the  God  who  made  you  ?  At  the  throne  of  grace  I  am 
upon  a  level  with  my  son,  and  I  need  redeeming  mercy  as 
much  as  yourself.  Let  me,  my  dear  child,  be  blessed  with 
the  privilege  of  seeing,  and  hearing  you,  in  your  new,  and 
highly  responsible  character,  this  night.'  I  was  dumb,  f 
could  not  speak:  my  mother  was  requested  to  summon 
the  family.  '  Come,'  said  my  father,  '  come  near  me  my 
children.  God  is  about  to  remove  from  you  your  father, 
your  supplicating  father;  but  my  God,  your  God,  will 
never  leave  you,  nor  forsake  you.  He  will  give  you,  in 
your  brother,  a  friend,  a  guide,  a  father;  you  must  con- 
sider him,  when  I  am  gone,  as  in  my  stead;  you  will  unite 
with  him  in  prayer,  you  will  follow  his  direction,  and  God 
will  abundantly  bless  you  together.  My  prayers  on  his 
behalf  are  graciously  answered;  they  will,  my  beloved 
children,  be  answered  on  your  behalf  also;  for  He,  who 
hath  promised,  is  faithful,  your  father  hath  proved  Him 
faithful.  Our  God  is  indeed  worthy  to  be  trusted.  His 
service  is  perfect  freedom;  serve  thie  Lord,  my  children, 
and  be  happy;  obey  your  dear  mother,  strengthen  the 
hands  of  your  brother,  and  felicity  will  be  your  portion.* 
He  would  have  proceeded,  but  weakness  prevented;  re- 
covering himself,  he  called  upon  me  to  make  good  his 


42  LIFE    OF    HEV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

expectations;  I  kneeled  down  by  his  bedside  in  convul- 
sive agony,  my  mother  kneeling  upon  the  opposite  side: 
my  brothers  and  sisters  forming  a  circle  which  surround- 
ed it,  while  the  domestics  kneeled  near  us.     I  prayed,  I 
wept,  1  audibly  sobbed:  while  my,  only  not  divine,  father, 
was  in  exstacy.     When  I  had  Unished,  *  Now,  O  Lord,' 
he  exclaimed,  '  let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine 
eyes  have  seen,  for  my  ears  have  heard,  for  my  heart  has 
felt   thy    salvation.     Come   near  me,  my  darling  boy.' 
Instantly  I  ran,  and  again  I  kneeled  by  his  bedside;  he 
drew  my  head  to  his  bosom,  he  wept  over  me,  but  his  tears 
were  tears  of  transport,  when,  laying  his  dying  hand  upon 
my  head,  he  thus  fervently  supplicated :  '  0  thou,  Almighty 
God,  who  hath  thus  blessed,  greatly  blessed  thy  poor  ser- 
vant:   Thou  who  hast  been  my  God,  and  my  guide,  even 
unto  death,  bless,  ohl  bless  this  son,  with  whom  thou  hast 
blessed  thy  feeble  supplicant :     Give  him  thy  supporting 
presence  through  life,  direct  him  in  the  way  he  should 
go,  and  never  leave  him,  nor  forsake  him:  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Ghost,  thou  covenant-keeping  God,  bless,  bless, 
O!  bless  this  lad — '  Here  his  heart  swelled  too  big  for  ut- 
terance; after  a  few   moments,  recovering  himself  a  lit- 
tle he  mildly  requested  me  to  place  him  properly  in  his 
bed.     I  was  beyond  measure  shocked  to  see  what  a  skele- 
ton he  had  become,  his  bones  in  many  places  through  his 
skin.     It  was  my  wish  to  tarry  with  him  through   the 
night,  birt  I  could  not  obtain  permission.     '  Go,  my  dear 
son,'  said  he,  'go  to  rest,  and  the  God  of  your  fathers  be 
ever  with  you.'     This  was  the  last  time  I  ever  heard  his 
voice ;  before  the  morning  dawned,  1  was  summoned  to 
attend  not  a  dying,  but  a  deceased  parent,  whose  value, 
until  that  agonizing  moment,  I  had  never  sufficiently  ap- 
preciated.    My  mother  continued  by  his  bedside,  over- 
whelmed by  sorrow;  the  slumbers  of  my  father   were 
sweet,  calm,  and  unbroken,  until  near  midnight,  when  she 
perceived  he  Was  awake,  and  believing  him  to  be  speak 
ing,  she  inclined  her  ear  to  his  lips,  and  heard  him  say, 
while  his  heart,  his  full  heart,  seemed  nearly  bursting: 
'*  The  souls  of  believers  are  at  their  death  made  perfectly 
holy,  and  do  immediately  pass  into  glory;  but  their  bodies, 
being  still  united  to  Christ,  do  rest  in  their  graves  till  the 
resurrection.'     After  a  pause,  he  resumed:  'At  the  res- 
urrection, they  shall  be  openly  acknowledged,  and  ac- 
quitted in  the  day  of  judgment,  and  made  perfectly  bless- 
ed in  the  full  enjoyment  of  God  through  eternity:  Bless- 
ed, perfectly  bless — .'     Blessed,  he  would  have  said,  but 
he  breathed  no  more.     When  I  approached  the  bed  «  " 


LIFE   OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  43 

death,  I  beheld  the  remains  of  the  departed  saint,  pre- 
cisely in  the  position  in  which  a  few  hours  before  I  had 
placed  him.  Not  a  single  struggle  had  the  dear  appre- 
hensive man,  during  those  expiring  moments,  which, 
through  his  whole  life,  he  had  expected  would  be  produc- 
tive of  such  extreme  torture.  He  slept  in  Jesus,  in  full 
confidence  of  a  glorious  resurrection. 

From  this  hour,  until  the  interment,  our  house  was 
thronged;  but  of  all  our  numerous  friends,  who  by  their 
presence  expressed  their  sympathy,  no  individuals  ap- 
peared more  deeply  affected  than  my  future  patrons,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Little.  My  father  was  very  dear  to  Mr.  Little; 
he  mingled  his  tears  with  the  widow,  and  her  orphans. 
It  was  unnecessary  to  tell  me  I  had  sustained  an  irrepara- 
ble loss;  my  heart,  my  pierced  heart,  was  every  moment 
making  the  avowal ;  I  could  now  fully  appreciate  my  father's 
worth;  1  felt  I  was  bereaved,  miserably  bereaved;  left  to 
myself,  and  I  knew  myself  well  enough  to  justify  the 
most  spirit-wounding  apprehensions.  I  retired  to  my 
chamber,  to  my  closet,  secretly  indulging  my  overwhelm- 
ing sorrow,  and  if  I  ever  experienced  the  fervor  of  de- 
votion, it  was  then,  when,  throwing  abroad  my  supplica- 
ting hands  I  petitioned  the  God  of  my  father  to  be  my  God 
also,  entreating  that  he  would  graciously  vouchsafe  to 
preserve  me  from  myself,  my  sinful  self:  all  the  hard, 
un dutiful  reflections,  which  I  had  secretly  tolerated 
against  this  good,  this  honored  man,  while  he  was  en- 
during exquisite  sufterings  for  the  purpose  of  preserving 
me  from  evil,  rushed  upon  my  recollection,  and  an  innate 
monitor  seemed  to  say :  '  You  may  now,  ungrateful  boy, 
go  where  you  please;  the  prying  eye  of  a  father  will  no 
more  inspect  your  conduct.'  It  was  now,  in  these  mo- 
ments of  torture,  that  my  father,  as  it  should  seem,  first 
became  kno^vn  to  me.  It  is  true,  he  was  severely  good, 
his  conscience  was  indeed  sorely  tender;  but,  as  far  as  he 
knew,  he  performed  the  will  of  God,  at  least  in  as  great 
a  measure  as  he  was  able,  and  when  he  believed  himself 
deficient,  as  he  almost  always  did,  it  gave  him  great  pain. 
The  uniform  sanctity  of  his  life  commanded  the  respect, 
the  esteem,  the  affection,  and  even  the  veneration  of  all 
who  knew  him.  He  possessed  an  uncommon  share  of 
natural  a  ilities,  and  his  acquirements  were  very  re- 
spectable. He  had  read  mu  h;  History,  Natural  Philos- 
ophy, Poetry,  these  were  all  familiar  to  him;  but  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  and  books  of  devotion,  were  his  de- 
light. Human  productions  constituted  his  amusement ^ 
but  the  word  of  God  was  Yn^food.     He  was  so  acute  a 


44  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

reasoner,  that  it  was  difficult  to  gain  any  advantage  over 
him  in  argument;  yet  he  was  easily  provoked,  but  imme- 
diately sensible  of  error;  every  deviation  from  propriety 
was  marked  by  tears.  He  had  so  much  self-command^ 
as  never  to  strike  a  child  in  a  passion ;  this  he  denominat- 
ed a  demoniac  sacrifice;  he  would ^rsi  correct  the  angry 
man;  but  however  painful  the  act,  he  never  omitted 
what  he  conceived  it  his  duty  to  bestow.  He  was  a  very 
tender-hearted  man,  and  his  prayers  were  rarely  unac- 
companied by  tears.  He  mourned  with  the  mourner, 
for  he  was  himself  a  man  of  sorrow.  Being  for  the 
last  nineteen  years  of  his  life  a  confirmed  invalid,  he  was 
constantly  and  fervently  looking  towards  his  heavenly 
home — sometimes  with  impatience,  when,  correcting  him- 
self, he  would  say,  'Well,  well,  heaven  is  worth  waiting 
for;  one  hour,  passed  in  the  courts  of  my  God,  will  be  a 
rich  remuneration  for  all  terrestrial  sufferings.' 

It  is  the  custom  in  Ireland,  when  any  person  of  dis- 
tinction or  respectability  is  called  out  of  time,  to  watch 
around  their  remains,  night  as  well  as  day,  until  the  body 
be  entombed.  The  remains  of  my  father  were  affection- 
ately attended,  but  they  were  attended  in  an  uncommon 
manner;  as  he  differed  from  others  in  life,  so  these  last 
honors  differed  from  those  usually  bestowed.  The 
morning  immediately  succeeding  his  demise,  our  friends 
and  neighbors  assembled  in  our  dwelling,  when  Mr.  Lit- 
tle thiis  addressed  them :  'My  friends,  it  has  pleased  God 
to  take  unto  himself  the  soul  of  our  beloved  brother :  as 
he  lived,  so  he  died,  a  pattern  of  excellence;  we  know, 
we  feel,  that  he  has  not  left  his  equal.  We  unite  with 
this  dear  family  in  sensibly  lamenting  the  departure  of 
our  experienced  friend,  our  guide,  our  comforter.'  Here 
he  mingled  his  tears  with  those  of  our  attendant  friend. 
After  a  long  pause,  he  proceeded :  '  Fellow  mourners,  the 
greatest  respect  we  can  pay  to  the  remains  of  our  inesti- 
mable, our  heavenly  guide,  is  to  pass  our  time  together  in 
this  house  of  mourning,  not  only  for  him,  but  for  our- 
selves, in  the  way  which  would  be  most  pleasing  to  him, 
were  he  present;  we  will  therefore  appropriate  our  hours 
to  reading,  and  to  prayer.  One  of  our  brethren  will  ad- 
dress the  throne  of  grace,  after  which  I  will  read  a  ser- 
mon, the  production  of  Mr.  Erskine,  whose  writings  the 
dear  departed  was  remarkably  fond.'  The  prayer,  the 
sermon,  the  concluding  prayer,  deeply  affected  everyone; 
and  the  evening  witnessed  a  renewal  of  these  pious  ex- 
ercises. Thus  were  our  nights  and  days  devoted,  until 
the  interment.     On  that  day  the  throng  was  prodigious. 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURSAY.  45 

The  worth,   the  good  actions  of  my  father,  were  the 
theine  of  many  a  tongue  ;  his  praises  were  echoed,  and 
re-echoed,  while  tears  of  sorrow  moistened  many  an  eye. 
Every  one  bore  in  his,  or  her  hand,  to  the  grave-yard,  a 
sprig  of  bays,  which,  after  the  body  was  deposited,  was 
thrown  over  the  coffin.     But  no  words  can  describe  my 
agonizing,  my  terrific  sensations,  when  I  reflected  upon 
the  charge  which  had  devolved  upon  me.     I  remember- 
ed my  father's  words,  on  the  evening  preceding  his  exit, 
and  1  felt  myself  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  assuming  his 
place  in  the  family;  but  how  much  was  I  to  suffer  by 
comparison  with  him,  whose  place  I  was  appointed  to 
fill:  yet,  had  I  wished  to  avoid  entering  upon  my  office, 
my  mother,  the  friends  of  my  father,  would  have  borne 
testimony  against  me.     They  thronged  around  me,  they 
entreated  me  immediately  to  take  charge  of  the  family, 
and  to  commence  my  arduous  task  by  devout  supplica- 
tions to   Almighty  God      I  complied  with  their  united 
wishes;  but  no  tongue  can  utter,  no  language  can  delin- 
eate the  strong  emotionsof  my  soul;  again  I  was  convuls- 
ed, again  I  agonized;  the  whole  family  were  inexpressi- 
bly affected.     It  was  the  most  melancholy  evening  I  had 
ever  experienced;  but  my  benighted  spirit  was  sudden- 
ly refreshed,  by  a  ray  of  consolation,    emitted   by   the 
cheering  hope,  that  my  father's  God  would  be  my  God, 
and  that  the  fervent  prayers  he  had  offered  up,  in  my 
behalf,  would  be  answered  in  my  favor.     I  was  encourag- 
ed too  by  my  mother,  and  by  the  friends  of  my  father,  who 
besought  the  Lord  in  my  behalf  and  were  daily  reminding 
me  of  the  interest,  which  my  deceased  parent^  unquestion- 
ably had  with  the  prayer-hearing  God. 

Yet,  although  soothed,  and  greatly  stimulated,  my  new 
employment  continued  to  distress  and  appal  my  spirit. 
The  conviction  of  every  day  assured  me,  that  I  was  un- 
equal to  the  arduous  task  I  had  undertaken.  My  mother 
was  my  ever-ready  aid  and  counsellor;  but  my  brothers 
and  sisters  always  remembered,  that  I  was  not  their  fa- 
ther; and  they  were  highly  displeased,  whenever  I  pre- 
sumed to  exercise  over  them  paternal  authority;  yet  this 
I  believed  to  be  my  duty,  and,  that  I  might  be  in  every 
thing  like  my  father,  I  took  up  the  rod  of  correction,  se- 
riously chastising  my  brother,  for  the  purpose  of  restor- 
ing him  to  the  narrow  path,  from  which  he  had  wander- 
ed. But,  although  I  had  learned  of  my  father  to  use  the 
rod,  I  never  could  make  it  answer  the  same  purpose;  in 
my  hand,  it  only  served  to  increase  the  evil,  it  became  the 
signal  of  revolt;  and,  while  my  brother  continued  incor* 
5 


46  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

rigible,  my  other  brothers,  and  my  sisters,  enlisted  on  his 
side.  My  mother,  dear  honored  sufferer,  was  ex- 
ceedingly distressed;  she  had  in  fact  a  difficult  part  to 
act;  she  was  fearful,  whichever  side  she  might  espouse, 
would,  bj'^  creating  new  irritation,  make  bad  worse,  and 
yet,  upon  an  occasion  so  interesting,  we  would  not  allow 
her  to  be  silent;  she  must  positively  attend  to  our  appeals. 
But  however  arduous  her  task,  she  possessed  discretion 
sufficient  to  meet  it,  and  to  produce  an  ultimatum  com- 
pletely satisfactory  to  all  parties. 

She  replied  to  our  remonstrances,  by  a  request  to  be  al- 
lowed until  the  evening,  succeeding  our  complaints,  for 
serious  deliberation.  The  interesting  evening  came, 
*  Come  my  children,  all  equally  dear  to  my  soul :  come, 
the  doors  are  now  shut;  this  is  the  time  of  evening  ser- 
vice. There  is  the  chair,  which  your  pious,  your  affec- 
tionate father,  once  filled.  Can  you  remember  the  last 
time  he  addressed  you  from  that  seat.  Let  me,  my  dear 
children,  let  me  repeat,  as  well  as  my  memory  will  per- 
mit, what  he  said  to  us  the  last  time  he  ^iddressed  us  from 
that  chair.  '  Come,'  said  he,  '  come  near  me,  my  child- 
ren^'  when,  folding  his  arms  around  your  elder  brother, 
and  pressing  him  to  his  bosom,  while  shedding  over  him 
abundance  of  tears,  and  pouring  out  his  soul  in  supplica- 
tion for  him,  he  most  affectingly  said :  '  I  am,  my  dear 
child,  hastening  to  that  heaven,  for  which  I  have  so  long 
waited.  For  you,  ever  since  you  were  born,  I  have  wept 
and  prayed;  graciously  hath  my  God  inclined  his  ear  to 
the  voice  of  my  supplication.  He  hath  blessed  me,  by 
giving  me  to  see  you,  before  I  die,  prepared,  by  divine 
favor,  to  take  my  place;  I  leave  you,  my  dear  son,  to  act 
a  father's  part,  when  I  shall  be  here  no  more;  let  your 
mother,  your  brothers,  and  your  sisters,  receive  from  you 
that  attention,  and  care,  they  can  no  more  obtain  from 
me;  but,  although  I  shall  be  no  more  with  you,  your  God, 
your  father's  God,  will  never  leave  nor  forsake  you.  Nay, 
my  own  beatified  spirit  may  obtain  increasing  felicity,  by 
being  sometimes  permitted  to  behold  the  order  and  har- 
mony of  my  beloved  family,  while  collected  before  the 
throne  of  grace,  with  the  love  of  God  and  love  of  each 
other  glowing  with  divine  exstasy  in  every  bosom.'  It 
was  then,  my  precious  children,  that  your  devout  father 
clasped  you  separately  to  his  bosom;  you  remember  how 
he  then  spake  to.  you :  '  I  go,  my  beloved  children :  you 
will  no  more  hear  my  voice  from  this  chair;  I  shall  no 
more  be  able  to  pray  with  you,  to  advise,  or  to  direct 
you.     But,  my  children,  I  leave  with  you  a  brother,  who 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  47 

will  perform  to  you  tne  part  of  a  father;  I  leave  him  in 
my  place;  it  is  my  command,  that  he  tread  in  my  steps, 
as  far  as  I  have  proceeded  in  the  path  of  justice;  and,  my 
dear  children,  I  conjure  you  to  attend  to  his  directions. 
The  eldest  son  was,  of  old,  the  priest  in  the  family  of  his 
father;  and  if  you  love  me,  if  you  love  your  mother,  if 
you  would  prove  your  love  to  God,  or  even  to  yourselves, 
contribute  all  in  your  power  to  strengthen  the  hands  of 
your  brother.'  You  remember  he  then  embraced  each  of 
youj  and  wept  over  you;  and  I  pray  you  to  remember, 
that  you  then  solemnly  promised,  to  perform  all  which 
your  dying  father  directed  you  to  perform.  Perhaps  the 
saint  may  be  at  this  moment  beholding  us,  in  this  very 
spot,  in  which  a  few  days  previous  to  his  departure  out 

of  time,  he  so  affectingly,  so  tenderly  admonished  us 

My  mother  paused,  as  if  influenced  by  sacred  awe  of  the 
presence  she  had  supposed.  We  audibly  wept;  we  rush- 
ed into  each  other's  arms,  we  embraced  each  other,  and 
so  long  as  we  continued  together,  our  affection,  our  piety, 
and  our  devotion  were  uninterrupted. 


Record  continued,  until  the  Author's  Departure  from  Ireland, 

Launch'd  from  the  shore,  on  life's  rough  ocean  tost, 
To  my  swoU'n  eye  my  star  of  guidance  lost; 
Torn,  from  my  grasp,  my  path-directing  helm, 
While  waves,  succeeding  waves,  my  prospects  whelm. 

By  the  malpractices  of  the  second  husband  of  my  ma- 
ternal grandmother,  a  large  share  of  my  mothers  patri- 
mony passed  into  other  hands.  I  accidentally  obtained 
intelligence  of  some  fraudulent  proceedings  of  the  great 
personage,  by  whom  it  was  then  holden.  We  did  not 
possess  ability  to  support  a  prosecution  for  the  recovery 
of  our  rights.  Some  time  after  the  demise  of  my  father, 
the  person,  who  resided  upon  the  estate,  was  sued  for 
rent;  to  this  person  I  communicated  in  confidence,  what 
I  knew  to  be  fact.  I  assured  him,  the  great  man  who 
retained  the  estate  had  no  legal  claim  to  it;  and  I  advised 
him  not  to  pay  the  rent.  He  followed  my  advice,  and  the 
business  came  before  a  court  of  judicature.     The  gentle- 


4S  LIFE    Ot    REV.    JOHN    MURRAri 

man,  who  sued  the  tenant,  summoned  me,  as  a  witness, 
to  prove  that  the  tenant  had  occupied  the  house  the  speci- 
fied number  of  years;  thus  I  was  unexpectedly  present  at 
the  trial,  and  the  interference  of  Providence  produced  a 
result,  far  beyond  our  most  sanguine  expectations.     The 
tenant  denied  the  right  of  the  landlord  to   demand  the 
rent,   alleging,  that  if  he  paid  it  to  him,  he  might  here- 
after be  compelled  to  pay  it  to  another.     '  To  whom  ? ' 
interrogated  the  court.     '  To  Mrs.  Murray  and  her  child- 
ren, to  whom  the  estate  in  question  properly  belongs.' 
I  was  called  upon  for  an  explanation,  and  I  boldly  pledg- 
ed myself  to  prove  the  truth  of  the  testhnony  delivered  by 
the  tenant;  adding  that  I  could  make  such  a  statement, 
as  would  render  the  affair  abundantly  clear  to  their  hon- 
ors.    I  was  immediately  silenced,  by  the  lawyers  upon 
the  opposite  side,  who  produced  a  deed  of  the  contested 
property,  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered;  I  then  requested 
the  indulgence  of  the  honorable  court,  while  I  observed, 
that,  as  I  was  not  sufficiently  opulent  to  procure  council, 
I  presumed  to  solicit  permission  to  plead  my  own  cause. 
Full  consent  was  unhesitatingly  granted;  when  I  proved 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  court,  and  jury,  that  this  deed 
was  signed,  after  the  death  of  the  husband  of  my  grand- 
mother; and  further,  that,  had  the  man  been  living,  the 
right  of  the  disposal  was  not  vested  in  him.     I  consumed 
a  full  hour  and  a  half,  in  unfolding  a  scene  of  wickedness, 
not  to  be  defended^  and  I  closed,  by  grateful  acknowl- 
edgements to  their  honors,  for  the  patience  they  had  ex- 
ercised.    The  jury  retired^  and  speedily  returned  with  a 
verdict  in  favor  of  the  tenant.     I  immediately  entered  my 
claim,    and  a    trial    commenced,   which    terminated  in 
my  favor;  and  I  not  only  obtained  the  house  in  question, 
but  two  others,  in  like  circumstances,  to  the  no  small  sat- 
isfaction of  the  public,  and  the  mortification  of  the  great 
man  and  his  lawyers.     We  immediately  took  possession 
of  the  house;  and  our  utmost  gratitude  to  that  God,  wha 
had   interposed   for  us,    was  most  powerfully   excited. 
Here  I  had  a  very  large,  and,  in  no  long  time,  a  very 
well  improved  garden;  abounding  with  every  thing  useful, 
and  beautiful;  herbs,   fruits,  and  flowers,  in  great  abund- 
ance; and  my  situation  was  fully  adequate  to  my  wishes. 
Harmony  presided  in  our  family;  but,  alas!  gradually, 
as  by  common  consent;  we  grew  more  careless  of  our 
domestic  duties,  and  more  attentive  to  public  aflTairs;  de- 
riving a  kind  of  amusement  from  what  was  passing  abroad, 
which  we  could  not  obtain  at  home.     We  had  many  vis- 
itors, and  consequently  we  frequently  visited;  yet  no  in- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY,  49 

dividuals  were  so  dear  to  us,  as  were  Mr.  Little,  and  his 
amiable  family.  I  have  repeatedly  observed,  that  both 
Mr.  Little  and  his  lady,  had,  from  the  death  of  their  sons, 
regarded  me  even  with  parental  affection  j  I  was  only  not 
an  inmate  in  their  dwelling;  and  but  for  the  charge, 
which  the  demise  of  my  father  had  devolved  upon  me, 
they  would  not  so  long  have  delayed  proposals,  which 
in  a  most  serious  manner,  they  ultimately  made  to  my 
mother.  Mr.  Little  was  rather  advanced  in  years;  he 
commenced  his  career  without  property,  but  he  was 
prudent  and  industrious;  his  lady  was  equally  so:  she 
brought  her  husband  no  more  than  one  hundred  pounds 
sterling,  but  she  was  a  portion  in  herself.  Although  un- 
commonly economical,  and  careful,  her  charities  were 
yet  very  extensive;  she  could  assist,  she  observed,  the 
children  of  penury,  without  loss;  for  her  resource  was 
her  own  augmented  industry.  When  this  amiable  couple 
became  known  to  us,  they  possessed  immense  wealth; 
and  they  had  now  but  two  surviving  children — daughters. 
We  were  passing  a  pleasant  evening  in  their  hospitable 
dwelling,  throwing  the  eye  of  retrospection  over  past 
scenes,  until  our  hearts  were  greatly  softened.  The  de- 
*  parted  sons,  the  deceased  husband,  and  father,  passed  in 
review;  and  were  alternately  the  subjects  of  conversa- 
tion and  regret.  At  length,  Mr.  Little  thus  addressed  us: 
'  I  have  lost  my  sons,  and  I  have  long  viewed  you,  my 
young  friend,  in  the  stead  of  my  buried  children:  it  is 
true,  I  have  many  nephews,  and  I  am  urgently  solicited 
to  receive  one  of  them  under  my  roof;  but  I  do  not  feel 
a  freedom  so  to  do,  although  I  must  absolutely  have  some 
one  to  assist  me  in  the  arrangement  of  my  affairs :  and  I 
now  tender  to  you,  my  dear  young  man,  to  you,  who 
have  so  long  been  beloved  by  every  individual  of  my  fami- 
ly; I  offer  to  you,  the  place  of  a  son  in  my  house,  in  my 
heart.  And  if  you,  madam,  will  consent,  and  your  son, 
thus  sanctioned,  will  accept  my  proposal,  he  shall  imme- 
diately take  possession  of  the  apartment  of  his  deceased 
friend  (my  lamented  son,)  and  I  shall  bless  God  for  thus 
making  up  my  loss.  Mrs.  Little,  who  sat  by  bathed  in 
tears,  most  cordially  united  her  solicitations:  the  offer 
was  too  great  to  be  rejected,  we  accepted  it  with  becom- 
ing gratitude,  and,  what  rendered  a  proposal  so  liberal 
abundantly  more  pleasing,  was  an  appearance,  on  the 
part  of  our  benefactors,  of  having  received  instead  of 
conferred  an  obligation.  I  attended  my  mother  home, 
with  mingled  sensations  of  pain  and  pleasure;  pain,  from 
the  consideration,  that  I  was  leaving  a  family,  which  I 


60  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

had  been  accustomed  to  view  as,  in  a  very  tender  sense, 
my  own;  and  with  which  I  should  never  perhaps  in  like 
manner  again  associate;  pleasure,  from  the  reflection, 
that  I  was  entering  upon  a  new  scene  of  life,  from  which 
I  had  a  prospect,  not  only  of  independence,  but  affluence. 
It  is  true,  upon  my  departure,  which  took  place  upon  the 
succeeding  morning,  I  wept  bitterly,  so  did  my  widowed 
mother,  and  her  children;  and  my  tears  again  flowed,  up- 
on entering  the  apartments  of  my  dear  young  friend, 
with  whom  I  had  passed  so  many  pleasing  hours.  But, 
I  was  received  by  my  new  parents,  and  sisters,  as  the 
dearest  of  sons,  and  as  the  brother  of  their  affection.  Joy 
soon  exhilarated  my  spirits,  and  brightened  upon  my 
countenance:  I  had  the  warm  congratulations  of  all  my 
friends,  for  it  was  noised  abroad,  that  this  very  opulent 
gentleman  had  adopted  me  as  his  son,  and  they  went  so 
far  as  to  add,  his  son  and  heir.  All  this  was  very  pleas- 
ing to  me,  but  the  kindred  of  Mr.  Little  were  of  course 
highly  irritated,  and  I  became  so  much  the  object  of  their 
envy  and  their  hatred,  that,  whenever  they  visited  their  un- 
cle, without  deigning  to  speak  to  me,  they  studiously  sought 
opportunities  of  insulting  me.  This  gave  me  pain,  but  it 
did  me  no  real  injury;  for,  upon  every  instance  of  invidious 
conduct  toward  me,  my  parental  friends,  and  their  fami- 
ly, especially  their  daughters,  studiously  augmented  their 
testimonies  of  esteem  and  affection. 

After  I  had  passed  some  months  with  Mr.  Little,  he 
was  visited  by  a  young  preacher,  just  entering  the  sacer- 
dotal character,  to  whom  I  was  much  attached,  and  our 
friendship  was  mutual;  I  was  prevailed  upon  by  this 
preacher,  to  accompany  him  upon  a  little  journey;  I  de- 
parted with  the  sanction  of  my  patron.  I  had,  in  the 
societies  vvith  which  I  had  been  connected,  occasionally 
exhorted;  and  I  had  been  frequently  urged  by  several  of 
their  preachers  to  aid  them  in  their  labors.  Upon  this 
journey  I  was,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  absolutely 
ensnared;  accompanying  my  friend  to  the  assembled  con- 
gregation, with  an  expectation  of  hearing  him,  he  put  his 
arm  under  mine,  and  helping  me  to  ascend  the  temporary 
pulpit,  erected  for  the  occasion,  he  suddenly  quitted  me, 
and  I  was  in  a  manner  constrained  to  speak  to  the  multi- 
tude. Thus,  for  the  first  time,  I  preached  to  a  large  con- 
course of  serious  and  attentive  hearers,  in  public;  and, 
although  at  the  appointed  time  I  returned  to  my  much- 
loved  home,  I  continued,  as  opportunity  offered,  from 
that  time  forward,  preaching  whenever  I  journeyed,  and 
even  at  home,  when  necessitated  by  the  absence  of  the 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  ^l 

preacher.  This  made  some  noise  in  our  little  world;  but, 
as  it  was  not  displeasing  to  my  honored  friends,  I  was  not 
dissatisfied.  My  inveterate  enemies,  however,  being  the 
nearest  relations  of  the  family  in  which  I  resided,  were 
constantly  endeavoring  to  undermine  my  interest  in  the 
heart  of  their  kinsman.  I  was  to  pass  some  time  in  a 
neighboring  city,  and  to  render  my  visit  more  pleasing, 
my  patron,  at  my  departure,  furnished  me  with  a  sum  of 
money;  this  sum  I  carelessly  put  into  my  pocket,  without 
examination,  until  calling  in  m}^  v/ay,  upon  my  mother,  I 
discovered,  that  my  patron  had,  as  I  supposed,  made  a 
capital  mistake;  that  he  had  given  me  gold,  instead  of 
silver.  I  mentioned  this  circumstance  to  my  mother,  in 
presence  of  one  of  her  neighbors;  and  without  announc- 
ing my  design,  I  immediately  returned  home,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  rectifying  the  error.  Upon  my  unexpected  ap- 
pearance before  Mr.  Little,  with  information  of  his  mis- 
take, he  smiled,  and  said,  that  he  never  kept  his  gold  and 
silver  together.  '  It  was  my  design,'  said  he, '  to  give  you 
gold,  but  I  advise  you  not  to  throw  it  away,'  I  pursued 
my  journey,  and  passed  my  time  agreeably;  but  whether 
I  threw  away  the  bounty  of  my  benefactor,  I  do  not,  at 
this  period,  recollect :  I  only  know  that  I  brought  not  a 
shilling  homo  with  me;  in  fact,  I  was  never  sufficiently 
sensible  of  the  value  of  money,  to  retain  it  in  my  posses- 
sion. I  was  received,  on  my  return  from  this  visit,  with 
uncommon  pleasure;  and  some  time  after,  my  kind  patron, 
taking  me  into  his  private  apartment,  thus  addressed  me : 
*  I  need  not,  my  dear,  inform  you,  that  you  have  many 
enemies,  and  I  regret  to  say,  that  those  enemies  are 
among  my  nearest  relatives;  but,  continuing  in  the  paths 
of  rectitude,  you  will  be  beyond  the  reach  of  their  most 
malignant  calumnies.  Soon  after  you  left  home  the  other 
day,  the  clergyman,  who  has  recently  become  the  hus- 
band of  my  neice,  called  upon  me,  requesting  a  private 
audience;  and  when  retired  into  this  room,  he  observed, 
that  he  conceived  himself  in  duty  bound  to  apprize  me, 
that  I  was  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  character 
of  the  person  I  had  adopted;  that  he  was  not  honest;  that 
he  had  obtained  money  from  me,  to  which  he  had  no 
right.  '  You  gave  him,  sir,  as  you  believed,  some  pieces 
of  silver,  but  upon  examination  they  proved  to  be  guineas; 
this  fact  I  can  prove;  and  if  he  could  thus  act,  what  may 
he  not  do  .<"  I  told  this  officious  gentleman,  that  I  had 
really  intended  to  give  you  gold;  but  that  you,  conceiving 
I  had  made  a  mistake,  forbore  to  appropriate  the  money, 
and  speedily  returned  home,  for  the  purpose  of  making 


52  LIFE    or    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

the  communication.  Our  clergyman  departed,  and  you 
will  easily  conceive,  not  a  little  humbled.  I  mention  this 
circumstance  to  you,  my  son,  to  put  you  upon  your  guard. 
It  is  my  wish,  that,  in  future  you  should  not  be  so  com- 
municative.' This  little  anecdote  was  exultingly  repeat- 
ed to  me  by  the  good  lady,  and  her  daughters,  who  never 
failed  triumphantly  to  report  every  little  occurrence,  which 
they  believed  would  contribute  either  to  my  pleasure  or 
my  reputation. 

My  establishment  in  this  family  rendered  me  an  object 
of  envy,  even  among  some  of  my  religious  connexions. 
Objections  were  raised  against  my  supposed  erroneous 
sentiments;  I  was  more  than  suspected  of  retaining  my 
father's  Calvinistic  doctrines.  Mr.  Wesley  received  in- 
formation against  me.  He  set  a  watch  over  me;  thus 
fixing  upon  me  the  evil  eye  of  suspicion.*  A  maiden 
sister,  considerably  advanced  in  years,  became  a  depend- 
ent resident  in  the  family  of  her  brother.  Her  characte;- 
was  marked  by  duplicity,  and  she  delighted  in  mischiei". 
The  tales  she  propagated  were  as  various,  as  the  parties 
which  listened  to  her  narrations;  and  all  her  communica- 
tions were  made  under  the  strict  seal  of  secrecy.  Young 
and  un&uspecting,  I  found  it  difficult  to  encounter  enemies 
of  such  opposite  descriptions.  I  had  some  friends,  of 
whose  affection  I  doubted  not;  with  these  friends  I  passed 
much  time,  and  I  communicated  to  them  every  thing,  and 
they,  in  their  turn,  communicated  every  thing  to  me; 
while  many  circumstances,  thus  confided,  were,  to  my 
great  astonishment,  in  circulation !  My  situation  became 
uneasy  to  me :  I  was  fond  of  being  in  company  abroad; 
this  was  very  disagreeable  to  my  friends  at  home;  they 
expected  in  me  a  friend  and  companion,  who  would,  by 
reading  and  conversation,  give  to  their  fireside  new 
charms;  and  both  parents,  and  daughters,  were  mortified 
and  disappointed.  Mr.  Little  expressed  his  disapproba- 
tion of  my  frequent  absences.  I  was  hurt,  Mrs.  Little 
shed  tears,  and  entreated  me  to  change  my  conduct. 
'  You  have,'  said  she,  '  in  this  wide  world  no  such  friends 

*  It  must  ever  be  the  cause  of  grief  and  mortification  to  the  really 
liberal  christian,  to  find  in  the  conduct  of  professors  that  want  of 
charity  which  characterized,  in  this  case,  that  of  Mr.  Wesley. 
Though  himself  in  a  situation  by  no  means  enviable  j  looked  upon  by 
many  as  an  enemy  of  the  truth,  he  nevertheless  adopted  those  mea- 
sures which  were  calculated  to  prevent  inquiry,  and  destroy  that  lib- 
erty of  conscience  for  which  he  himself  contended.  Well  would  it 
have  been  for  the  world,  and  especially  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  had 
this  been  the  last  instance  of  the  kind.  Ed. 


l,IFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  53 

US  we  are  disposed  to  prove  ourselves;  you  will  be  abun- 
dantly more  happy  at  home,  than  you  can  be  abroad 
You  should  supply  to  us  the  place  of  our  deceased  child- 
ren :  we  expect  consolation  from  your  society.  You  are 
greatly  beloved  in  this  house;  your  enemies  are  not  under 
this  roof»  For  God's  sake,  if  you  have  any  regard  for  us, 
if  you  have  any  regard  for  any  of  your  friends,  if  you 
would  secure  your  own  happiness,  or  the  happiness  of 
our  mother,  do  not  thus  conduct.'  Thus,  with  many  en- 
treaties, did  this  dear,  affectionate  lady,  endeavor  to  ar- 
rest my  wanderings;  and,  while  attending  to  her  friendly 
lectures,  my  best  resolutions  were  in  full  force,  and  I  de- 
termined never  to  offend  again.  But  going  out  to  meet- 
ing, one  and  another  of  my  religious  connexions  would 
take  me  by  the  arm;  I  could  not  avoid  engagements;  and 
when  I  returned  home^  every  individual  of  the  family, 
Miss  Little  exce})ted,  had  frequently  retircid  to  rest.     This 

food  girl  waited  to  apprize  me  of  her  father's  displeasure. 
Inch  did  she  expostulate-^  and  her  expostulations  were 
not  always  unmingled  with  tears.  My  mother  was  rend- 
ered extremely  wretched:  I  saw  the  gathering  storm,  but 
I  had  not  sufficient  fortitude  to  abide  its  ravages.  My 
enemies  derived  consolation  from  my  indiscretion,  and 
my  infelicities  daily  augmented.  Whenever  I  was  cen- 
sured, 1  was  rendered  more  abundantly  unhappy;  and  I 
formed  a  serious  resolution  to  quit  both  the  family  of  Mr. 
Little,  and  the  country,  and  to  seek  an  asylum  in  my  na- 
tive plr.ce — England.  For  many  days  I  continued  obdu- 
rate, no  remonstrances  could  influence  me;  I  must  abso- 
lutely commence  a  traveller — I  must  go  to  England.  I 
had  no  object,  yet  I  must  depart  for  England — I  could  not 
tell  why,,  indeed.  It  was  believed,  I  was  distracted. 
What,  relinquish  fortune,  and  such  connexions,  and  such 
a  prospect? — for  it  was  generally  believed,  that  I  was  to 
be  united  in  marriage  to  Miss  Little.  Nay,  her  father 
was  informed,  by  his  kindred,  that  I  was  absolutely  clan- 
destinely seeking  to  gain  the  affections  of  the  young  lady; 
and  that  they  believed  I  was  already  in  possession  of  her 
heart.  But  Mr.  Little  gave  no  credit  to  this  report;  he 
knew,  that  my  evenings  were  passed  abroad,  and  that 
this  was  the  only  source  of  dissatisfaction.  It  happened, 
however,  one  evening,  when  I  had  been  out  late,  and  he, 
according  to  custom,  retired  to  rest,  I  found,  on  my  return 
home.  Miss  Little  waiting  in  the  parlor,  for  the  purpose 
of  making  a  communication,  which  she  conceived  would 
be  of  consequence  to  me.  We  sat  some  time  in  a  con- 
versation, by  which  we  were  mutually  interested;   she 


34  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY 

made  known  to  me  the  invidious  remarks  of  her  uncles, 
and  aunts,  and  their  displeasure  at  her,  for  not  uniting 
with  them  in  their  sentiments;  she  dwelt  upon  the  grief, 
which  my  inattention  to  the  wishes  of  her  parents  occa- 
sioned them;  and,  upon  this  part  of  her  subject,  she  be- 
came affected  even  to  tears.  I  also  was  greatly  affected, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life^  taking  her  hand,  I  im- 
pressed upon  it  a  kiss  of  fraternal  afiection;  when  to  our 
great  astonishiiient,  her  father  entered  the  apartment. 
Had  we  seen  a  spectre,  we  could  not  have  been  more  ap- 
palled. He  stood  for  some  moments  speechless,  until 
fixing  his  eyes  indignantly  on  my  face,  which  was  cer- 
tainly covered  with  confusion,  in  a  very  pointed  and  sig- 
nificant manner,  he  said,  '  So,  sir! '  and,  taking  his 
daughter  by  the  hand,  he  conducted  her  from  the  parlor, 
leaving  me  to  my  own  reflections.  Words  are  inadequate 
to  a  description  of  my  agonies,  during  the  residue  of  that 
night.  An  idea  of  Miss  Little,  in  any  other  character 
than  that  of  a  very  dear  sister,  had  never  crossed  my 
mind;  yet  suspicion  was  now  furnished  with  a  weapon 
against  me,  which  would  abundantly  enforce  the  reports 
retailed  to  Mr.  Little,  by  his  kindred.  I  have  often  won- 
dered, that,  at  an  age  so  susceptible  of  impressions,  I  did 
not  become  more  warmly  attached  to  Miss  Little:  she 
was  a  most  lovely  and  amiable  young  woman;  and  she 
certainly  gave  me  every  reason  which  a  modest,  delicate, 
and  sensible  female  could  give,  to  believe  she  was  not 
absolutely  disinclined  to  listen  to  a  tale  of  love.  My 
apathy  can  only  be  accounted  for,  by  a  recurrence  to  an 
unquestionable  fact;  my  heart  was  wholly  engrossed 
by  my  religious  connexions.  I  passed  this  memorable 
night  in  my  chamber,  without  entering  my  bed.  I  de- 
scended the  stairs  in  the  morning,  with  the  feelings  of  a 
malefactor:  I  dreaded  the  sight  of  every  one  in  the  house. 
Mr.  Little  saw  me,  but  spake  not  to  me;  Mrs.  Little  ad- 
dressed me  in  the  language  of  kindness;  their  daughter 
was  not  present,  and  I  am  persuaded  she  was  not  reduced 
to  the  necessity  of  feigning  indisposition,  as  a  pretence 
for  absence.  After  breakfast,  Mrs.  Little  in  a  whisper, 
directed  me  to  retire  into  the  back  parlor,  where  she 
would  speedily  fjin  me.  With  trembling  dread  I  obeyed; 
she  soon  appeared,  the  shutters  were  closed,  just  light 
enough  to  see  her,  and  be  seen  by  her;  I  saw  she  had 
been  in  tears;  she  was  a  most  kind-hearted  lady.  I  could 
not  speak;  she  commanded  me  to  be  seated:  I  drew  a 
chair  for  her,  and  andther  for  myself;  she  sat  down,  and 
1  seated  myself  by  her.    After  a  pause,  she  hegan :  '  TeW 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  55 

me,  I  conjure  you,  tell  me,  what  I  ought  to  understand 
by  the  appearances  of  this  morning  ?  answer  honestly  the 
questions  I  shall  put  to  you:  but  I  know  your  answers 
will  be  literally  true.  My  poor  girl  is  very  much  dis- 
tressed; her  father  is  very  reserved,  and  very  sad;  he 
will  make  no  reply  to  my  inquiries,  and  my  child  is  also 
silent.  Tell  me,  I  repeat,  what  is  the  matter? '  I  came 
home  late  last  night,  madam;  no  one  was  up  but  Miss 
Little,  who,  like  an  affectionate  sister,  informed  me  she 
had  something  to  communicate  to  me,  with  which  I 
ought  to  be  acquainted:  I  listened  to  her,  till  I  became 
greatly  affected  with  what  1  heard,  and,  deeply  sensible 
of  her  goodness,  we  were  mingling  our  tears,  when  thus 
thrown  off  my  guard,I  regret  to  say,  that  I  am  apprehen- 
sive I  committed  an  unpardonable  offence;  I  am  mortified 
while  I  confess  to  you,  my  dear  madam,  that  I  had  the 
boldness  to  press  to  my  lips  the  dear  hand,  which  seemed 
extended  to  rescue  me  from  indiscretion;  but  indeed,  my 
dear  lady,  it  was  the  first  time  I  ever  dared  to  take  so 
great  a  lil)erty,  and  I  would  give  the  world  I  had  not  then 
been  guilty  of  so  much  temerity.  At  the  moment  Mr. 
Little  entered,  I  felt  as  if  I  should  have  sunk  under  his 
indignant  glance;  Miss  Little  was  greatly  discomposed, 
while  her  father,  with  a  voice  rendered  tremulous  by  an- 
ger, significantly  said— •' So,  sir ! ' — and  conducted  his 
daughter  out  of  the  room.  This,  my  dear  lady,  is  the 
whole  I  know  of  the  matter;  I  fear.  Miss  Little  will  never 
forgive  me,  for  creating  her  so  much  distress :  I  had  in- 
finitely rather  be  dead,  than  alive;  I  dread  the  eye  of  Mr. 
Little,  and  it  i^  my  opinion,  I  ought  immediately  to  quit 
your  hospitable  mansion.  '  Alas !  my  dear  child,  I  know 
not  what  to  say;  you  believe  you  ought  to  quit  us! 
Would  to  God  you  had  never  thus  thought.  This  per- 
suasion is  the  source  of  all  our  unhappiness.  How  often 
have  I  told  you,  that  no  enemy  could  ever  injure  you,  if 
your  own  conduct  was  uniformly  correct.  You  have 
deeply  wounded  a  heart  that  loves  you.  I  promised  my- 
self, that  you  would  become  a  large  addition  to  our  do- 
mestic felicity.  But  you  are  apprehensive  you  have  of- 
fended beyond  forgiveness !  Alas !  my  daughter  is  more 
distressed  for  you,  than  for  herself;  you  know  not  how 
much  she  has  suffered  on  your  account;  you  know  not 
how  much  we  all  suffer !  Why,  my  dear  child,  will  you 
thus  afflict  your  best  friends  ? '  I  am,  my  dear  madam, 
^ieived  to  have  been  the  source  of  so  much  distress  to 
■persons  so  dear  to  me;  but  I  shall  shortly  be  out  of  the 
Way  of  offending  any  one.    *  What  do  you  mean  f*    To 


56  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY 

quit  this  house,  to  quit  this  country.       The  dear  lady 
threw  her  maternal  arms  around  me,  and  with  flowing 
tears  interrogated:  'Is  it  thus  you  will  avoid  offending 
us  ?     Ah,  my  dear  child,  how  lictle  do  you  know  of  us, 
or  of  yourself.     For  God's  sake,  let  me  persuade  you  not 
to  take  so  rash   a  step !     Where   would  you   go,  what 
would  you  do?     Would  you  leave  a  home,  an  envied 
home,  and  thus,  while  you  afflicted  your  dearest  friends, 
gratify  your  malignant  foes  ? '     But,  my  dear  madam,  it  is 
impossible  I  can  continue  under  this  roof.     Mr.  Little 
will  not  restore  me  his  confidence:    my  felicity  in  this 
family  is   fled,  forever  fled.     '  You  are  mistaken,  your 
happiness  rests  entirely  with  yourself;  be  but  uniformly 
discreet,  be  but  the  companion  we  expected,  when  we 
adopted  you,  and  all  will  yet  be  well.'     But,  madam,  the 
eye  and  ear  of  Mr.  Little  will  now  be  open  against  me, 
suspicion  will  be  on  the  alert,,  and  he  will  accept  the  tales 
of  my  enemies,  as  testimonies  of  sacred  writ..    '  Believe 
it  not;  think  no  more  of  this  untoward  business;  you 
have  but  one  enemy  who  can  essentially  injure  you,  and 
that  enemy  is  yourself.     I  will  be  responsible  for  my  fami- 
ly; you  shall  not  be  molested  in  this  house,  only  convince 
us,  that  you  love  us;  do  but  prove,  that  you  are  more  at- 
tached to  us,  than  to  any  other  individuals,  and  we  are 
satisfied.     Do  but  reflect,  how  delightfully  we  might  pass 
our  time  together.     The  business  of  the  day  closed,  and 
we  assembled  in   the  parlor:  you  with  your  book,  we 
your  admiring  audience,  until  we  are  summoned  to  sup- 
per; then,  after  you  have  closed  our  serene  day  by  an  ap- 
propriate, and  affecting  address  to  the  God  who  created, 
and  who  has  hitherto  preserved  us,  we  retire  to  an  early 
pillow,  soothed,  and  gratified,  our  sleep  cannot  but  be  re- 
freshing.    Why,  what  a  paradise  would  our  abode  be- 
come.     But,  my  child,  when  you  pass  every  evening 
abroad,  you  know  not  what  a  melancholy  group  you  ren- 
der us.     We  are  dumb,  our  countenances  are  sad;  our 
silence  is  sometimes  broken  by  Mr.  Little,  who  ques- 
tions in  anger,  '  Where  is  our  young  gentleman  to-night? 
any  society  but  ours ! '  Then  follows  a  heavy  sigh :  '  Well, 
let  us  go  to  bed,  it  will  be  late  before  he  returns;  but 
this  will  never  do,'     'We  dare  not  open  our  lips,  but  my 
girls  mingle  their  tears  with  mine.'     Greatly  moved  by 
these  observations,  I  sincerely  repented  of  my  past  con- 
duct; and  I  determined  I  would,  in  all  things,  conform 
myself  to  the  wishes  of  my  parental  friends.     I  beheld 
the  family  picture  presented  before  me,  by  the  dear  lady; 
I  beheld  it  with  rapture,  and  I  decisively  said:  yes,  in- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY  57 

deed,  my  future  evenings  shall  all  be  devoted  to  a  family 
so  charming,  and  thus  will  my  days  be  passed  in  peace. 
I  promised  the  dear  lady,  solemnly  I  promised,  that  I 
would  be  all  she  wished;  and  I  communicated  to  her 
bosom  inexpressible  delight.  I  left  her  in  tears,  but  they 
were  tears  of  rapture :  I  retired  to  my  chamber;  I  threw 
myself  upon  my  knees,  I  supplicated  pardon  of  my  heaven- 
ly Father,  and',  with  a  devout  heart,  I  implored  his  sup- 
porting aid.  A  petition  to  my  Creator  always  possessed 
the  potent  power  of  refreshing  my  soul;  I  was  greatly  re- 
freshed, and  I  looked  forward  with  renewed  complacency. 
In  a  few  hours,  I  was  summoned  to  dinner;  at  the  door 
of  the  dining-room,  1  was  met  by  Mr.  Little;  no  cloud 
rested  upon  his  countenance;  I  entered  the  dining-room, 
where  were  seated  my  charming,  ray  faithful  friends; 
the  mother  and  her  daughters;  their  countenances  were 
animated,  but  their  eyes  bore  testimony  to  their  previous 
agitation :  our  interview,  and  hour  of  dining,  were  highly 
gratifying.  It  is  true,  many  words  were  not  uttered,  but 
there  is,  in  the  expressive  eye  and  other  intelligent  fea- 
tures of  a  fine  countenance,  a  fascination  which  dwelleth 
not  in  words.  Soon  after  dinner  my  little  friend,  the 
youngest  daughter  of  my  patron,  visited  me  in  my  cham- 
ber, and  bestowed  upon  me  many  caresses. 

Halcyon  days  and  months  now  revolved;  I  fondly  fan- 
cied I  had  surmounted  every  difficulty,  and  I  anticipated 
a  succession  of  delightful  enjoyments;  yet  again  I  expe- 
rienced the  satiety,  consequent  upon  one  unvaried  routine. 
He,  who  had  appointed  me  for  a  life  of  wandering, 
gave  mo  a  disposition  which  relucted  at  the  constant 
recurrence  of  the  same  scene;  I  ventured  to  pass  one 
evening  abroad;  another,  and  another  succeeded.  I  was 
severely  reflected  upon,  and  I  felt  it  keenly;  conscious 
of  meriting  reproach,  I  was  the  more  deeply  wounded. 
I  had  been  recently  conversant  with  a  young  preacher 
from  England;  my  imagination  was  fired;  the  world 
could  not  have  longer  detained  me;  I  condemned  my- 
self for  wasting  so  much  time;  my  heart,  my  soul  was 
in  England,  in  London.  Let  the  world  bestow  its  cen- 
sures, London  was  the  place,  it  contained  every  thing  de 
lightful;  I  was  on  tiptoe  to  be  gone;  if  I  was  not  ap- 
proved by  the  family,  so  much  the  better,  there  would 
be  less  ingratitude  in  quitting  it.  My  dear  maternal 
friend  once  more  sought,  and  obtained  a  private  inter- 
view; this  I  wished  to  avoid;  she  saw  my  reluctance, 
and  was  convinced  she  should  not  succeed.  She  re- 
proached me :  this,  though  painful,  I  could,  bear  better 


9V  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

than  her  tenderness.    '  Then  you  will  leave  us,'  said  the  dear 
lady.     I  am  determined.     'You  will  repent  it,  sir:  you 
will  return  with  sorrow,  and  with  shame;  when,  possibly, 
you  may  not  find  these  hospitable  doors  open  to  receive 
you.'     Never,  never,  I  will  die  first.     She  paused,  she 
raised  her  hands  to  heaven,  she  looked — ^merciful  God, 
I  see  her  now  before  me:  the  impression  of  her  vary- 
ing countenance   was  unutterable;   tears   coursed  each 
other  down  her  pallid  cheeks.     Pausing  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, she  said:  'Poor  unhappy  youth,  you  know  not 
what  you  are  about,  where  you  are  going,  and  what  you 
are  doomed  to  suffer.     Here,  then,  ends  all  my  pleas- 
ing prospects;  now  indeed  I  have  lost  my  sons;  poor  Anna, 
she  has  now,  in  truth,  no  brother.     Go,  unhappy  youth, 
go,  the  sooner  you  depart,  the  better;  I  do  not  wish  to 
see  you  again.'     She  left  me,  nor  will  I  attempt  a  de- 
scription  of  my  sensations.     I  retired  to  my  chamber, 
my  chamber  now  no  more;  I  wept,  I  audibly  sobbed.     In 
imagination  I  beheld  the  beloved  friend,  by  whom  it  was 
once  occupied;  he  seemed  to  upbraid  me  for  my  conduct; 
how  torturing  were  the  pangs  I  suffered.    Upon  the  eve- 
ning of  this  sad  day,  my  cherub  friend  entered  the  cham- 
ber, and  for  the  last  time,  during  my  abode  therein;  pret- 
ty soul,  she  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck,  my  face  was 
wet  with  her  tears :  she  told  me,  that  her  sister  was  very, 
very  sad!     On  what  occasion,  my  love.?     'Why,  papa  is 
very,  very  angry  with  you :  and  she  says,  you  are  going 
away  to-morrow,  she  knows  not  where,  and   that  she 
shall  never  see  you  again;  and  she  walks  about  her  cham- 
ber, and  wrings  her  hands,  O!  dear,  0!  dear,  I  never 
saw  her  so  much  distressed  before !'     This  was  a  truly 
affecting  night,  but  it  was  the  last  I  passed  under  that 
roof;  I  was  not  summoned  to  breakfast :  a  servant  came 
to  ask,  if  I  would  breakfast  in  my  chamber,  there  could 
be  no  doubt  of  my  negative.     I  saw  by  the  countenance 
of  this  domestic,  that  I  was  fallen.     About  twelve  o'clock, 
I  received  a  message  from  Mr.  Little,  he  was  alone;  I 
must   attend  him.     My  sufferings  were  great.  To  meet 
his  eye  was  abundantly  worse  than  death:  I  endeavor- 
ed to  avoid  it.     Sometime  elapsed  before  he  spoke;  he 
repeatedly  attempted  to  speak,   but  mingling  grief  and 
rage  arrested  his  utterance.     At  last  he  said:  'Well,  sir, 
you  are  going  to  commence  your  travels.-"      This,  with 
the  manner  in  which  it  was  spoken,  relieved  me.     It  was 
at.  that  moment  my  choice  to  cherish  resentment,  rather 
than  regret.     I   am  going  to  England,   sir.     'You  are; 
well,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  there .''    But  this  is 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY  ft* 

no  business  of  mine;  yet,  I  suppose  it  must  be  my  busi- 
ness to  know,  how  you  are  to  get  there;  have  you  any 
money,  sir?'     No  sir.     'Hold  your  hat,  sir.'     I  did  so, 
and  he  threw  into  it  as  much  gold  as  he  pleased,  and, 
as  I  then  believed,  as  much  as  would  support  me,  if  I 
should  reach  the  extreme  age  allotted  to  man.     '  Have 
you  enough,  sir.?'     Yes,  sir,  quite  enough,  and  God  for- 
ever bless  you.     '  Do  you  hear,   sir,  leave  behind  you 
my  son's  fowling-piece,  and  here  ends  my  air-built  cas- 
tle;' and  with  a  flushed  countenance,  and  a  tearful  eye, 
he  left  me,  nor  did  I  ever  more  cross  the  threshold  of 
his  door.     I  turned  my  back  upon  this  once  delightful 
home,  with  mingling  emotions  of  sorrow,  mortification, 
regret,  and  anger;  all  combining  to  produce  unutterable 
anguish.     My  frame  trembled,  as  I  turned  from  the  door; 
a  chillness  pervaded  my  heart;  sickness  seized  my  stomach, 
and  I  had  just  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  turn  the 
contents  of  my  hat  into  my  pocket-handkerchief,  when 
I  sunk  down  upon  the  steps  of  the  first  door  in  my  way. 
I  was  seen,  and  noticed  by  the  people  of  the  house,  who 
conveyed  me  into  their  dwelling,  and,  when  they  had 
recovered  me,    questioned  me   respecting  the   cause  of 
my  indisposition.     I  related,  with  my  usual  frankness, 
every  particular,  and  in  a  short  time,  the  story  circulat- 
ed, and  with  all  the  variations  commonly  attached  to 
interesting  articles  of  intelligence.     I  was  soon  sufficient- 
ly restored  to  reach  the  residence  of  my  mother;  where 
a  new  scene  of  sorrow  awaited  me.     The  poor  suflferer 
was  beyond  measure   astonished  at  the  step  I   had  so 
rashly  taken,  and  her  distress  was  unutterable:  she  had 
promised  herself  a  long  series  of  enjoyments,  from  the 
happy  arrangements  made  for  me;  and  I  suspect  she  con- 
templated, at  no  very  distant  period,  a  union  between 
Miss  Little,  and  myself;  and  her  consequent  agony,  when 
she  learned,  that  I  had  not  only  abandoned  my  home^ 
and  those   flattering  prospects,  but  that  in  consequence 
of  my  fixed  determination  to  repair  to   England,  she 
was  to  lose  me,  perhaps  forever;  the  torture  of  her  mind 
was,  as  I  said,  beyond  the  reach  of  language :  but  neither 
her  tears  nor  entreaties,  strongly  enforced  by  those  of 
my  brothers  and  sisters,  could  for  a  single  moment  shake 
my  resolution.     Whatever  barriers  might  oppose  my 
wandering  steps,  to  England  I  must  depart;  I  saw,   or 
seemed  to  see,  the  sacred  shade  of  my  father,  first  re- 
proaching me,  and  then  soothing  me  to  a  compliance 
with  the  wishes  of  his  mourning  family;  and,  by  the 
anguish  of  my  feelings,  my  soul  was  harrowed  up:  yet 


60  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Still,  obdurate  as  I  was,  I  continued  inflexible.     I  could 
not  endure  to  see,  or  be  seen,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  abode 
which  I  had  quitted;  and  I  made  immediate  preparations 
for  my  departure.     I  tendered  to  my  disconsolate  mother, 
the  money  I  received  from  Mr.  Little,  not  a  penny  of 
which  she  would  accept:  '  No,  my  beloved  child,  if  you 
must  launch  out  upon  the  wide  ocean,  into  a  world  of 
which  you  know  but  little,  you  will  find  this  sum,  large 
as  it  is,  far  short  of  your  exigences.     Through  your  filial 
exertions,  I  am  established  in  a  dwelling,  far  beyond  my 
most  sanguine  expectations,  or  even  wishes;  and,  from 
your  well-timed  efforts,  I  derive  many  other  advantages; 
and  if  my  God  is  about  to  deprive  me  of  my  son,   1 
doubt  not.  His  goodness  and  mercy,  which  have  hither- 
to followed  me,  will  still  be  manifest,  both  in  my  provi- 
sion, and  preservation;  and  in  that  of  my  helpless  child- 
ren.'    My  heart  seemed  ready  to  burst;  conscience  whis- 
pered, I  was  acting  wrong,  very  wrong;  yet  even  this 
conviction  could  not  induce  a  relinquishment  of  my  plan; 
an  irresistible  impulse  seemed  hurrying  me  on.     Many 
in^ances,  striking  instances,  in  my  long  and  wearisome 
life,  combine  to  prove,  that  the  way  of  man  is  not  in  him- 
self; I  at  least,  have  experienced  the  truth  of  this  sacred 
testimony.     As  the  time  of  my  departure  drew  near,  my 
feelings  were  still  more  keen.     My  mother,  my  brothers, 
my  sisters,  my  friends,  renewed  their  tears  and  entreaties; 
I  could  not  stem  a  torrent  so  mighty,  and  I  determined  I 
would  abide  with  them.     But  it  "was  the  determination 
of  the  moment,  extorted  by  the  mournful  supplications 
of  all  who  were  dear  to  me;  and  when  they  ceased  to 
urge,  i  resumed  my  former  resolution;  and  my  mother, 
from  early  life  devoutly  religious    mildly  resigned  her- 
self to   an   event  which  she   considered  inevitable.     *  I 
see,'  said  she,  *  supplications  are  ineffectual;  now  I  am 
indeed  a  widow !'     Starting  at  the  desolate  term  [widow], 
so  mournfully  uttered,  I  hastened  to  my  chamber,  and 
prostrating  myself  before  the  throne  of  Almighty  God, 
I  seemed  as  if  I  were  struggling  with  the  agonies  of  dis- 
solving nature.     I  would  infinitely  have  preferred  death, 
to  a  separation  so  exquisitely  torturing.     I  besought  the 
God  of  my  father  to  have  compassion  upon  me,  never 
to  leave  nor  forsake  me;  and  while  thus   humbly,  and 
faithfully  soliciting  the  Father  of  my  spirit,  renewed  af- 
fiance grew  in  my  bosom,  and  a  voice  seemed  to  say, 
'  Go,  and  lo  I  am  with  you  always.'     Calmly  reposing 
upon  this  assurance,  I  retired  to  rest;  I  quitted  my  pil- 
low on  the  succeeding  morning,  wonderfully  refreshed. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  61 

It  was  on  that  morning,  that  I  met,  for  the  last  time,  in 
the  place  of  my  dear,  confiding  father,  his  disconsolate 
family:  it  was  indeed  a  time  of  prayer.  My  heart  ad- 
dressed the  Father  of  mercies;  I  confessed,  with  great 
sincerity,  my  manifold  errors;  and  I  petitioned  for  a  con- 
tinuance of  unmerited  kindness;  I  beseeched  God  to  look 
with  pity  on  a  poor,  destitute,  helpless  being,  commenc- 
ing a  journey  through  a  world,  with  which  he  was  un- 
acquainted. I  entreated  our  God,  in  behalf  of  my  suf- 
fering mother,  and  her  helpless  orphans,  that  He  would 
constantly  abide  with  them;  and  that  he  would  vouch- 
safe an  answer  of  peace  to  the  many  prayers,  offered  up 
in  their  behalf,  by  the  husband  and  parent,  now  in  glory. 
My  mother,  was  dumb;  she  saw  the  hand  of  God  in 
this  business,  and  she  believed,  that,  as  a  sparrow  fall- 
eth  not  to  the  ground  without  our  heavenly  Father,  I 
could  not  thus  leave  my  pleasant  home,  and  wander  I 
knew  not  whither,  except  the  Lord  directed.  And,  em- 
bracing me,  when  on  the  eve  of  my  departure,  she  af- 
fectingly  said;  '  Go,  my  first-born,  my  ever  beloved  son; 
go,  and  may  the  God  of  your  father  be  with  you:  Go, 
my  darling  son,  on  whom,  while  coming  up  from  this 
wilderness,  I  fondly  meant  to  lean;  but  God  will  not  al- 
low me  to  lean  on  any  but  himself:  Go  thou,  ever  dear 
to  my  heart,  and  may  our  God  be  still  near  you,  to 
preserve  you  from  the  evil,  which  is  in  the  world. 
The  prayers  of  your  afflicted  mother  shall  be  contin- 
ually offered  up  in  your  behalf;  and  oh!  my  son,  al- 
though we  part,  never  perhaps  to  meet  again  in  this 
world,  yet  let  us  meet  every  day  before  that  throne j 
whence  we  may  expect  grace  to  help  in  every  time  of 
need;  let  us  be  present  in  spirit,  thus  waiting  upon  the 
Lord.  She  then  threw  her  fond  maternal  arms  around  me, 
once  more  pressing  me  to  that  dear,  that  faithful  bosom 
whence  I  drew  my  early  nourishment.  With  tears  of 
fond  affection  she  bedewed  my  face,  and  again  drop- 
ping upon  her  knees,  she  once  more  lifted  her  stream- 
ing eyes  to  heaven  in  my  behalf,  when  starting  up,  she 
hastened  to  the  retirement  of  her  chamber,  and  instantly 
closed  the  door.  I  stood  like  a  statue;  I  could  not  move;  I 
was  almost  petrified  with  sorrow.  But  from  this  state 
of  stupefaction  I  was  roused  by  the  burst  of  sorrow, 
and  loud  lamentations  of  my  sisters;  I  turned  to  the 
dear  girls;  I  wept  with  them,  and  endeavored  to  give 
them  that  consolation  which  I  did  not  myself  possess. 
But,  hastening  from  this  scene  of  sorrow,  there  was  one 
pang  which  I  calculated  to  escape.     The  youngest  child, 

6* 


62  lIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MtJRRAY. 

a  beautiful  little  boy,  who  bore  the  name  of  my  father 
— sweet  cherub— I  dreaded  seeing  him,  and  determined 
to  spare  myself  this  torture;  but  as  I  slowly,  and  pen- 
sively passed  from  the  house,  believing  that  what  was 
worse  than  the  bitterness  of  death  had  passed,  this  love- 
ly little  fellow  crossed  my  path.     Sweet  innocent,  thou 
wert  playful  as  the  frisking  lamb  of  the  pasture;  totally 
ignorant  of  the  agonies,  which  wrung  the  heart  of  thy 
brother.     He  ran   to   me,  clung  around  my  knees,  and 
looking  wishfully  in   my  face,   affectingly  questioned — 
'  Where  are  you  going.'"     I  could  not  reply,  1  attempt- 
ed to  move  on,  he  took  hold  of  my  garment;  '  Let  me 
go  with  you.?    shall  not, I  go  with  you,  brother.?,    He 
uttered  these   questions,   in   a  voice   so   plaintive,    that 
he  pierced  my  very  soul.     Surely,  had  it  been  possible,  I 
should   even    then   have   relinquished  my  purpose.      It 
was  with  difficulty   that  I   extricated   myself  from   this 
supplicating   infant.     I   would   have   hastened  forward, 
but  my   trembling  limbs  refused   their  office;    I   caught 
him  in  my  arms,  I  pressed  him  to  my  aching  bosom,  and 
but  for  a  burst  of  tears,  which  came  seasonably  to  my 
relief,  the  struggles  of  my  heart  must  have  choked  me. 
I  left  him — yes,  I  left  this  youngest  of  my  father's  child- 
ren, this  dear  object  of  my  soul's  aflfection,  this  infant 
charge,  committed  to  my  care,  by  an  expiring  father: 
I   left  him  in   the   act  of  innocent  supplication.     I   left 
him  when  I  should,  with  a  thousand  times  less  of  suf- 
fering, have  quitted  the  clay-built  tabernacleof  my  spirit; 
nor  had  I  aught  in  prospect,  to  compensate  the  sorrows 
to  which  I   voluntarily  submitted!!     Surely,  there   is  a 
hand  unseen,  which  governs  the  human  being,  and  all 
his  actions;  I  repeat,  truly  the  way  of  man  is  not  in  him- 
self.    Few   sufferings  could  surpass  those  which,  upon 
this  occasion,  I  endured:  My  bitterest  enemy  could  not 
have  censured  me  with  more  severity,  than  I  censured 
myself,  yet  I  passed  on;  no  friend  could  urge  my  return 
with   more  energy,   than  did  the   emotions  of  my   own 
afflicted    heart,  yet  I   passed   on.      True,    I   passed  on 
slowly;  a   frame,    enfeebled  by  mental   agonies,  is  not 
moved  without  difficulty.     I  had  sent  my  trunk  on  in  the 
waggon,  to  the  city  of  Cork,  where  I  purposed  to  take 
passage  for  England;  and  with  my  staff  in  my  hand,    I 
passed  on,  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  not  wishing  to  en- 
counter any  human  eye :  It  was  with  much  difficulty,  I  at- 
tained the  summit  of  a  steep  acclivity,  where,  spent  and 
weary,  I  sat  me  down.     From  this  lofty  eminence,  in  full 
perspective  outspread  before  me,  was  the  place  frou^ 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  68 

which  I  had  departed;  my  eye  eagerly  ran  over  the  whole 
scene.  Upon  a  gentle  ascent,  directly  opposite,  em- 
bosomed in  a  thick  grove  of  ash,  sycamore,  and  fruit  trees, 
appeared  the  lovely  dwelling  of  my  mother..  Behind  this 
eminence,  still  ascending,  was  outstretched  that  garden, 
in  which,  with  great  delight,  I  had  so  often  labored: 
where  I  had  planted  herbs,  fruits  and  flowers,,  in  great 
variety :  and  where,  as  my  departure  was  in  the  month 
of  June,  they  all  flourished  in  high  perfection.  It  was 
only  during  the  preceding  year,  that  I  had  added  to  my 
stock  a  large  number  of  the  best  fi'uit  trees,  in  the  full 
expectation  of  reaping  the  reward  of  my  labors,  through 
many  successive  seasons.  In  those  tall  trees,  the  cuckoo, 
the  thrush,  and  the  blackbird  built  their  nests;,  and  at 
early  dawn,  and  at  closing  eve,  I  have  hung  enraptured 
upon  their  melodious  notes.  My  swimming  eye  passed 
from  th^  garden  to  the  house;  there  sat  my  weeping,  my 
supplicating  mother,  at  that  moment,  probably,  uniting 
with  her  deserted  children  in  sending  up  to  heaven  pe- 
titions for  my  safety.  I  turned  to  the  right;  there  tow- 
ered the  stately  mansion,  I  was  bid  to  consider  as  my 
own;  there  dwelt  the  matron,  who  hoped  I  should  have 
been  unto  her  as  a  son,  and  who  had  cherished  me  as 
such;  there  dwelt  the  charming  young  lady,  whose  vir- 
tuous attachment  might  have  constituted  the  solace  of 
my  existence.  The  tear  of  sorrow,  the  sigh  of  disappoint- 
ment, no  doubt,  bedewed  their  cheeks>  and  swelled  their 
faithful  bosoms :  And  oh !  I  exclaimed,  may  the  balm  of 
peace,  may  the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  be  abun- 
dantly shed   abroad  in  your  hearts. 

As  thus,  from  scene  to  scene,  my  eager  eye  with  tear- 
ful haste  had  wandered,  my  heart  reiterated  its  unuttera- 
ble agonies;  and,  as  I  considered  my  situation  as  resem-, 
bling  that  of  the  father  of  mankind^  when  driven  from 
tha  paradise,  to  which  state  of  blessedness  it  was  decreed 
he  never  was  to  return,  I  would  gladly  have  laid  me  down 
and  died :  I  would  have  given  the  world,  had  it  been  at 
my  disposal,  to  have  reinstated  myself  in  the  situation, 
and  circumstances,  I  had  so  inconsiderately  relinquished; 
but  this  was  impossible,  and  this  conviction — how  terrible. 
I  wept,  I  sobbed.  Despair  seemed  taking  up  its  residence 
in  my  bosom.  I  fled  from  the  scene;  again  I  turned;  one 
more  look;  I  wrung  my  hands  in  agony,  and  my  heart 
<» spontaneously  exclaimed:  Dear,  ever  dear  parent,  once 
more  fareweUj  dear,  much  loved  sisters,  brothers,  and 
thou  sweet  innocent,  thou  smiling,  thoughtless,  and  there- 
fore happy  babe,  once  more  farewell;  and  you  dear  sec- 


64  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

ond  parents,  and  thou  sister  of  the  friend  ofmy  soul,  with 
the  beauteous  cherub,  whose  infantile  caresses,  while  pour- 
ing into  my  ear  the  interesting  tale,  were  as  balm  to  my 
wounded  spirit — farewell,  Oh !  farewell  forever !  and  you, 
ye  many  kind,  religious  connexions,  with  whom  I  have  of- 
ten wept,  and  prayed,  and  joyed,  and  sorrowed,  once  more 
I  bid  you  adieu j  adieu  ye  flowery  walks,  where  1  have 
spent  so  many  happy  hours;  ye  thick  embowering  shades, 
reared  by  these  hands,  ye  health-restoring  herbs,  ye  sweet 
delicious  fruits,  ye  fragrant  flowers,  receive  my  last  fare- 
well.    Still  I  lingered — still  I  gazed  around,  and  yet  again, 
another  look — His  past,  and  I  am  gone  forever.     I  turned 
from  the  view,  and  have  never  since  beheld  those  charm- 
ing scenes.     I  wonder  much  my  agitated  spirits  had  not 
insured  a  fever;  but  God  preserved  me,  and  leading  my 
mind  to  the  consideration  of  scenes  beyond  the  present 
state,  I  was  enabled  to  proceed,  until  1  beheld,  in  per- 
spective, the  spires  of  the  opulent  city,  which  1  was  ap- 
proaching.    The  opening  prospect,  with  the  additional 
sound  of  a  fine  ring  of  bells  from  Shannon  steeple,  a 
church  standing  on  an  eminence  upon  the  river  Lee,  the^ 
bells  of  which  are  heard  at  an  immense  distance,  gave  a 
new  tone  to  my  mind.     I  had  many  friends  in  the  city  of 
Cork,  and  I  endeavored  to  derive  consolation  from  their 
unquestioned  attachment.     I  had  frequently  preached  in 
this  city,  and  I  had  reason  to  suppose  my  labors  had  been 
acceptable.     In  the  city  of  Cork,  my  paternal  grandmoth- 
er, with  her  daughter,  my  aunt  Champion,  and  her  child- 
ren, still  lived.     My  society  would  be  sought,  and  I  should 
again  be  engaged  in.  preaching;  these  considerations  less- 
ened the  weight  of  aflfliction,  by  which  I  had  been  sorely 
pressed.     I  arrived  at  the  mansion  of  my  grandmother 
some  time  before  sunset,  and  I  was  very  joyfully  received; 
but  when  I  had  communicated  my  plan,  the  countenances 
both  of  my  grandmother,  and  my  aunt,  decidedly  evinced 
their  displeasure;  they  censured  me  with  severity,  and  I 
keenly  felt  their  rebukes.     I  assured  them,  I  came  not  ta- 
solicit  aid;  and  rising  from  my  chair,.! bade  them  formal- 
ly adieu,  quitting  their  presence,  and  their  house.     The 
eldest  daughter  of  my  aunt,  a  very  beautiful  young  lady, 
and  as  good  as  beautiful,whose  heart  was  formed  for  pity 
and  for  tenderness,  followed  me  down  stairs,  and  entreat- 
ed me  to  continue  with  them,  but  her  well-designed  in- 
terference was  ineflectual.     I  had  been  severely  censured, 
and  I  could  not  bear  it;  I  could  have  borne  it  better,  if  it 
had  been  unmerited.     I  left  my  lovely  cousin  in  tears,  nor 
did  I  again  see,  or  hear  from  any  individual  of  the  family. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  65 

until  one  evening  after  I  had  preached  in  the  Methodist 
Church,  my  grandmother  advanced,  took  my  hand,  and 
requested  1  would  attend  her  home :  I  confess  I  was  de- 
lighted with  her  condescension;  for  my  mind  had  greatly 
suffered  from  the  reflection,  that  I  had  given  pain  to  the 
dear  and  respectable  mother  of  my  deceased  father..  1 
accompanied  her  home,  and  we  passed  a  happy  evening 
together;  both  my  grandmother,  and  my  aunt,  addressed 
me  in  strains  the  most  soothing;  they  poured  into  my 
lacerated  mind  the  oil  and  wine  of  consolation;  they 
confessed  themselves  convinced,  that  the  good  hand  of 
God  was  in  my  removal.  '  You  are,  said  the  pious  lady, 
*  you  are,  my  dear  child,  under  the  guidance  of  an  Om- 
nipotent Power;  God  has  'designed  you  for  himself;  you 
are  a  chosen  instrument  to  give  light  to  your  fellow  men; 
you  are,  I  perceive,  ordained  to  turn  many  from  darkness 
unto  light,  from  the  power  of  satan,  unto  God,  and  the 
Lord  will  be  with  you.  The  God  of  your  father  will 
bless  you,  and  make  your  way  prosperous  before  you; 
look  no  more,  then,  to  what  you  have  left  behind,  but 
look  forward  in  faith,  always  remembering,  that  God's 
works  of  providence  are  his  most  holy,  wise,  and  powerful, 
preserving  and  governing  all  his  creatures,  and  all  their 
actions^  Do  not,  I  say,  reflect  upon  yourself;  I  confess, 
I  was  wrong  in  censuring  you;  God's  way  is  in  the  great 
deep,  we  ought  to  acquiesce  in  all  the  dispensations  of 
our  Creatar.  You,  my  dear  son,  are  as  clay  in  his  hand; 
God  is  as  the  potter,  who  will  do  with  you  as  seemeth 
good  in  his  sight.  Who  can  resist  his  will?'  Thus  did 
this  dear  lady  speak  peace  to  a  mind,  that  had  not,  for  a 
long  season,  received  such  strong  consolation. 

I  was  urged,  while  in  the  city  of  Cork,  to  relinquish  my 
purpose  of  going  to  England.  The  Methodists  solicited 
me  to  repair  to  Limerick,  where  a  preacher  was  much 
wanted;  but  nothing  could  seduce  my  thoughts  from  my 
native  island.  I  frequently  mixed  in  company,  where  re- 
ligious disputes  ran  very  high.  The  doctrine  of  election, 
and  final  perseverance  were  severely  reprobated  ;  but 
election,  and  final  perseverance,  were  fundamentals  in 
my  creed,  and  were  conceived  by  me,  as  the  doctrines  of 
God.  Yet  I  was  aware,  that  an  attempt  to  defend  prin- 
ciples, so  obnoxious,  would  subject  me  to  the  censure, 
and  ill  treatment  of  religious  enemies,  and  I  had  experi- 
enced, that  religious  enemies  were  the  most  to  be  dread- 
ed ;  Yet,  as  I  could  not  be  silent,  and  as  I  dared  not  dis- 
semble, I  contented  myself  with  observing,  that  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  hear  my  respectable  father  speak  in 


66  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

favor  of  those  doctrines.     But  although,  in  my  public 
labors,  I  never  asserted  aught  that  could  expose  me  to 
censure,  yet  I  was  more  than  suspected  of  Calvinism,  and 
consequent  resentments  Vi^ere  enforced  against  mc    My 
residence  in  the  city  of  Cork  was  thus  rendered  unpleas- 
ant, and  my  impatience   to   embark  for   England  was 
augmented.     I  was,  however,  obliged  to  continue  two 
weeks  longer,  during  which  period,  I  endeavored  to  live 
as  retired  as  possible,,  avoiding  controversy,  and  devoting 
my  time  to  my  grandmother  and  a  few  select  friends.     It 
was  during  my  protracted  residence  in  this  city,  that  the 
celebrated  Mr.  George  Whitefield   arrived  there,  upon  a 
visit.     Of  Mr.  Whitefield  I  had  heard  much,  and  I  was 
delighted  with  an   opportunity  of  seeing,  hearing,  and 
conversing  with  so  great  a  man.     He  was  the  first  Cal- 
vinistic  Methodist  I  had  ever  heard,  and  he  became  very 
dear  to  me;  I  listened  with  transport.     The  principles 
early  inculcated  upon  my  mind  were  in  full  force,  and  for 
Mr.  Whitefield  I  conceived  a  very  strong  passion.     He 
appeared  to  me  something  more  than  human :  I  blushed, 
at  the  view  of  myself,  as  a  preacher,  after  I  had  attended 
upon  him;  yet  I  had  the  temerity  to  preach  in  pulpits, 
which  he  had  so  well  filled !  and  I  secretly  resolved  to 
enter  into  connexion  with  him,  if  I  should  be  so  happy  as 
to  meet  him,  after  my  arrival  in  London.     I  had  many 
delightful  opportunities  in  private  circles  with  this  gentle- 
man; he  was  a  most  entertaining  companion.     But,  as 
Mr.  Wesley  marked  him  with  a  jealous  eye,  he  dispatch- 
ed, by  way  of  escort,  two  of  his  preachers,  in  whom  he 
particularly  confided,  who  diligently  followed  the  great 
man,  from  place  to  place:  he  was  of  course,  upon  every 
occasion,  closely  watched;  and  his  facetious  observations, 
and  frequent  gaiety,  were,  by  these-spies,  severely  censur- 
ed, as  descriptive  of  unbecoming  levity.     In  fact,  every  art 
was  called  into  action,  to  prevent  the  affections  of  the 
people  wandering  from  one  reformer  to  another;  yet,  while 
gentlemen,  in  connexion  with  Mr.  Wesley,  were  contin- 
ually upon  the  alert  against  Mr.  Whitefield,  he  himself 
evinced  not  the  smallest  inclination  for  opposition,  or  even 
defence;  he  appeared  perfectly  content  with  the  enjoy- 
ments of  the  day,  rather  prefering  a  state  of  independence, 
to  an  intimate  connexion  with  any  sect  or  party.     His 
choice,  at  that  time,  was  decidedly  the  life  of  an  itinerant, 
and  he  then  evidently  shrunk  from  the  cares,  and  embar- 
rassments, attached  to   the  collecting,  building,  and  re- 
pairing churches.     And  never,  I  believe,  did  any  man  in 
public  life  enjoy  more:  he  was  the  admiration  of  the 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  67 

many,  and  an  object  of  the  warmest  affection  in  those 
social  circles,  in  which  it  was  his  felicity  to  mingle.  The 
pleasures  of  the  table  were  highly  zested  by  Mr.  White- 
field,  and  it  was  the  pride  of  his  friends  to  procure  for 
him  every  possible  luxury.  The  pleasure  I  derived  from 
this  gentleman's  preaching,,  from  his  society,  and  from 
the  society  of  his  friends,  contributed  to  lessen  the  weight 
of  melancholy,  which  depressed  my  spirits  on  my  depar- 
ture from  home.  I  recollect  an  evening,  passed  with  him 
at  the  house  of  one  of  Mr.  Wesley's  preachers,  who  had 
wedded  a  beautiful  young  lady  of  family  and  fortune,  only 

daughter  of  a  Mrs. ,  who  possessed  a  very  large 

estate,  kept  her  chariot,  her  city  and  her  country  house, 
and  entertained  much  company;  many  persons  were 
collected,  upon  this  evening;  I  was  charmed  with  every 
thing  I  saw,  with  every  thing  I  heard.  I  had  long  admir- 
ed the  master  of  the  house;  his  lady  I  had  never  before 
seen;  she  was  the  object  of  general  adulation;  her  person 
was  uncommonly  elegant,  and  her  face  dazzlingly  beauti- 
ful; she  had  received  a  useful ^  as  well  as  a  fashionable 
education,  and  she  was  mistress  of  all  the  polite  accom- 
plishments. She  had  three  lovely  children,  with  minds 
as  well  cultivated,  as  their  time  of  life  would  permit.  I 
threw  my  eyes  upon  the  happy,  the  highly  favoured 
husband,  the  amiable  wife,  the  fascinating  children,  the 
venerable  lady,  who  gave  being  to  this  charming  wife, 
mother,  friend.  I  beheld  the  group  with  rapture;  for 
envy,  as  I  have  elsewhere  observed,  was  never  an  ingre- 
dient in  my  composition,  and  I  hung  with  a  sort  of  chast- 
ened pleasure,  upon  the  anecdotes  furnished  by  Mr. 
Whitefield;  the  whole  scene  was  captivatingly  entertain- 
ijig,  and  highly  interesting:  I  was  ready  to  wish  the  night 
might  endure  forever.  Alas!  it  Vvas  but  one  night;  I 
never  after  entered  that  house:  Happy  would  it  have 
been  for  me,  if  I  had  never  seen  it..  How  mysterious  are 
the  ways  of  heaven!  this  evening,,  upon  which  I  was 
so  highly  gratified,  was  theVemote  cause  of  my  suffering, 
many  years  afterwards,  great  and  very  serious  inquie- 
tude.. I  left  the  house  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Trinbath,  ex- 
pecting to  have  seen  him  again  and  again;  I  left  him  an 
object  of  envy  to  many;  but  I  never  saw  him  more,  nor 
did  he,  poor  gentleman,  long  continue  the  object  of  envy 
to  any  one. 

This  was  the  last  night  I  spent  in  this  city,  in  this 
country.  The  vessel  in  v.'hich  I  had  engaged  a  passage 
to  Bristol,  was  now  ready  for  sailing;  1  had  only  time, 
upon  the  morning  of  the  ensuing  day,  to  bid  a  hasty  adieu 


6o  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY 

to  my  grandmother,  and  her  family,  with  a  few  other 
friends;  to  receive  their  blessings,  and  to  depart.  I  took 
my  place  in  the  vessel  at  the  wharf,  some  of  my  friends 
accompanying  me  thither;  I  spoke  to  them  with  my  eyes, 
with  my  hands,  my  tongue  refused  utterance. 

The  beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenes,  in  passing  from 
the  city  to  the  cove  of  Cork,  cannot  perhaps  be  surpassed. 
A  few  miles  from  the  city  stands  a  fortress,  then  govern- 
ed by  a  half  brother  of  my  father.  I  beheld  it  with  a  hu- 
mid eye;  but  the  vessel  had  a  fair  wind,  and  we  passed 
it  rapidly.  I  retired  to  the  cabin;  my  too  retentive  mem- 
ory retraced  the  scenes  I  had  witnessed,  since  first  I 
reached  Hibernia's  hospitable  shore;  they  were  many,  and 
to  me  interesting:  reflection  became  extremely  painful, 
yet  it  was  impossible  to  avoid  it;  and  while  I  was  thus 
retrospecting,  the  vessel  cut  her  way  through  the  harbor; 
we  had  reached  the  cove,  we  were  on  the  point  of  leaving 
the  land.  I  jumped  upon  the  deck,  I  threw  my  eyes  over 
the  country  I  was  leaving,  which  contained  all  that  was 
near  and  dear  to  me,  either  by  the  ties  of  blood  or  friend- 
ship; all,  all  were  drawn  up  in  order  before  me;  it  was 
another  parting  scene.  Yet  I  cherished  hope,  I  might 
again  return.  Alas!  alas!  this  hope  was  delusive;  it  was 
an  everlasting  adieu.  Dear  country  of  guileless  and 
courteous  manners,  of  integrity,  and  generous  hospitality, 
I  bid  you  adieu;  adieu  ye  verdant  hills,  ye  fertile  vallies, 
ye  gurgling  rills,  which  every  where  cross  the  path  of  the 
traveller;  ye  delicious  fruits,  ye  fragrant  flowers,  ye  syl- 
van scenes,  for  contemplation  made — adieu  perhaps  for- 
ever. Here  ends  the  various  hopes  and  fears,  which 
have  swelled  my  bosom  in  a  country  celebrated  for  the 
salubrity  of  its  air,  the  clearness  of  its  waters,  the  richness 
of  its  pastures,  and  the  hospitality  of  its  inhabitants; 
where  no  poisonous  reptile  could  ever  yet  procure  suste- 
nance. 


LIFE    OF    REV     JOHN    MURRAT. 


CHAPTER  III. 


Arrival  in  England ^  and  further  Progress  of  the  inexpe- 
rienced Traveller. 

Hail,  native  Isle,  for  deeds  of  worth  renowned,. 
By  Statesmen,  Patriots,  Poets,  Heroes  crowned  j 
For  thee,  my  friends,  my  weeping  friends,  I  leave, 
To  thy  blest  arms,  thy  wandering  son  receive. 

r  NOW  began  anew  era  of  my  melancholy  life.  Losing 
sight  of  land,  I  again  retired  to  my  cabin::  alas!  'busy 
thought  was  too  busy  for  my  peaceJ  Launched  upon 
the  wide  ocean,  I  was  speeding  to  a  country,  my  native 
country  indeed;  but  a  country,  in  which  I  could  boast 
neither  relation,  nor  friend,  not  even  a  single  acquaint- 
ance. I  was  quitting  a  country,  in  which  I  had  both  re- 
lations and  friends,  with  many  pleasant  acquaintances:, 
yet  this  consideration  did  not  much  depress  me;  for  al- 
though my  heart  was  pained,  exquisitely  pained,  when 
I  reflected  on  those  I  was  leaving,  yet  I  was  in  raptures, 
at  the  thought  of  England.  I  promised  myself  every 
thing  pleasing  in  England;  yet,  in  my  most  visionary 
moments,  I  could  not  name  a  source,  from  which  I  could 
rationally  expect  establishment,  or  even  temporary  gratifi- 
cation. Several  gentlemen  were  in  the  cabin,  who  took 
kind  notice  of  me;  they  asked  me  no  questions,  so  I  was 
not  embarrassed;  but  they  contributed  to  render  my  pas- 
sage agreeable,,  which,  however,  was  very  short;  for  the 
identical  passage,  which,  when  I  accompanied  my  father, 
consumed  full  nine  weeks,  was  now  performed  in  three 
days;  but,  exempted  from  those  fears,  and  that  nausea, 
which  sometimes  afflict  fresh-water  sailors,  I  was  rather 
pleased  with  the  rapidity  of  our  passage.  We  dropped 
anchor  in  Bristol  channel;  I  was  charmed  with  an  op- 
portunity of' going  ashore  at  Pill,  and  onc«  more  greeting 
the  good  old  lady,  that  had  many  years  before,  so  tenderly 
compa.ssionated  me  when  I  returned,  as  one  from  the 
dead,  to  my  offended  father.  Alas!  she  was  no  more; 
this  was  a  disappointment,  but  I  was  in  England,  and 
every  thing  I  saw,  swelled  my  throbbing  bosom  to  rap- 
ture. 1  was  determined  on  walking  to  Bristol,  it  was  on- 
ly five  miles,  and  through  a  most  enchanting  country. 
O .  what  transport  of  delight  I  felt,  when,  with  the  en- 


70  LIFE.   OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

suing  mommg,  I  commenced  my  journey.     The  birds, 
sweetly  carolled,  the  flowers  enamelled  the  meadows,  the 
whole  scene  was  paradisiacal.      It  was  England.      But 
where  was  I  going.?     I  knew  not.     How  to  be  employed? 
I  knew  not;  but  I  knew  I  was  in  England,  and,  after 
feasting  my  eyes  and  ears,  I  seated  myself  upon  a  verdant 
bank,  where  the  hot  wells,  (so  much  celebrated  as  the 
resort  of  invalid  votaries  of  fashion,,  who  come  here  to 
kill  time,  and  to  protract  a  debilitated  existence  by  the 
the  use  of  the  waters,)  were  in  full  view.     Here  I  began 
seriously  to  reflect  upon  my  situation,  and  to  attend  to 
various  questions,  proposed  by  a  certain  invisible,  my  in- 
ternal monitor,  who  thus  introduced  the  inquiry.     '  Well, 
here  you  are  in  England  what  are  you  to  do .'' '     God  only 
knows.     '  Had  you  not  better  apply  to  Him  for  his  direc- 
tion and  protection .'' '     Certainly,  where  has  my  mind 
wandered,  that  I  have  not  thus  done  before .''     The  emo- 
tions of  my  heart  were  at  this  moment  indescribable. 
When  I  last  gazed  upon  these  scenes,  my  prudent,   vigi- 
lant father,  was  at  my  side,  to  guard  me  from  evil;  now 
I  had  no  guide,  no  counsellor,  no  protector !     '  O  yes,' 
said  my  monitor,  '  you  have  the  Creator,  the  Father  of 
your  father.  He  will  be  your  God,  and  your  guide :     He 
will  be  your  protector,  your  counsellor,  your  preserver; 
He  will  provide  for  you,  and,  if  you  apply  to  Him,  He 
will  make  your  way  plain  before,  you.'     My  heart,  sof- 
tened and  cheered  by  these  consoling  suggestions,  instant- 
ly began  its  supplications;  there  I  prayed,  and  there  I 
remembered  Jacob  upon  the  field  of  Padan-aram;  I  com- 
mended myself  to  the  care  of  the  God  of  Abraham,  of 
Isaac,  and  of  Jacob,  and  I  added  to  these  names,  the  name 
of  my  own  father.     Thus,  by  unbosoming  myself  to  the 
Author  of  my  existence,  was  my  spirit  greatly  refreshed. 
It  is  very  true  I  wept,  freely  wept,  but  my  tears  were  tears 
of  luxury ;  and  I  went  on  my  way  rejoicing,  in  a  hope  which 
gave  me,  as  it  were,  to  tread  air.     I  reached  Bristol  at 
early  dinner:  I  entered  a  tavern,  inquiring  if  I  could  be 
furnished  with  a  dinner.     They  saw  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  from  Ireland.     The  master  of  the  inn  was  from  the 
same  country;  he  soon  discovered  I  was  a  Methodist,  and 
being  acquainted  with  those  religionists,  he  invited  them 
to  visit  me,  and  I  was  consequently  introduced  to  many 
of  the  Methodists  in  that  city.     It  maj-  be  thought  strange, 
that,  as  I  had  been  so  much  engaged  among  the  Methodists 
in  Ireland,  being  one  of  their  approved  preachers,  I  did  not 
take  the  steps  necessary  to  introduce  me  among  that  class 
of  people  in  England..    But,  besides  the  jealousy  which 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  71 

had  taken  place  in  the  minds  of  my  religious  brethrenj  on 
account  of  my  attachment  to  the  doctrine  of  election, 
which  made  me  resolve  to  quit  Mr  Wesley's  connexion, 
and  unite  myself  with  the  adherents  of  Mr.  Whitefield,  I 
wished  for  liberty  to  act  myself,  without  restraint.     But 
on  being  introduced,  I  was  soon  engaged;  attended  their 
meetings,  and  private  societies,  and  was  admired  and 
caressed,  and  consequently  tarried  longer  than  I  had  pro- 
posed, deriving,  from  every  social  interview,  abundant 
consolation.     Upon  the  evening  previous  to  my  depar- 
ture from  Bristol,  I  was  urged  to  visit  a  society  a  few 
miles  from  the  city;  it  was  a  pleasant  walk;  several  of 
both  sexes  were  assembled,  they  were  neat  in  person,  and 
correct  in  manners,  and  they  were  all  English,     I  was 
charmed,  and,  being  in  good  spirits,  I  was  thought  excel- 
lent company;  I  was  then  a  stranger.     They  were  high- 
ly pleased;  I  was  requested  to  pray;  I  did  so,  and  we 
mingled  our  tears.     I  was  solicited  to  continue  among 
this  people,  but  my  wishes  all  pointed  to  London — and 
to  London  I  must  go.     I  parted  with  my  new  acquaint- 
ance with  regret,  for  I  was'  as  much  pleased  with  them, 
as  they  appeared  to  be  with  me.     Being  prevailed  upon 
to  tarry  dinner  the  next  day,  I  did  not  leave  Bristol  until 
the  afternoon.      I  then   departed  alone,  determining  to 
proceed  as  far  as  Bath,  and  take  the  stage  for  London, 
upon  the  ensuing  morning.     As  I  passed  over  one  of  the 
most  charming  roads  in  England,  and  alone,  I  had  not 
only  time  for  reflection,  but  my  reflections  were  pensive- 
ly pleasing:    I  was  advancing  towards  the  metropolis; 
hitherto  I  had  experienced  the  goodness  of  God,  and  I 
indulged  the  most  sanguine  hopes.     My  heart  was  greatly 
elated;  I  beheld  the  surrounding  scenes  with  rapture;  I 
was  not  wearied  by  my  walk,  it  was  only  sixteen  miles 
from  Bristol,  to  Bath;  the  fields  stood  thick  with  corn,  the 
valleys,  burdened  with  an  uncommon  load  of  hay,  seemed 
to  laugh  and  sing,  and  the  birds,  in  their  variety,  were, 
as  if  hymning  the  praises  of  their  Creator,  while  the  set- 
ting sun  heightened  the  grandeur,  and  gave  the  finishing 
touches  to  the  scene.     My  feelings  were  indeed  highly 
wrought.     I  proceeded  near  the  margin  of  a  beautiful 
river;  two  hay-makers  were  returning  from  their  toil;  I 
addressed  them,   and,  in  my  accustomed  manner,  I  ex- 
pressed my  delight,  and  my  gratitude,     '  These,'  said  I, 
in  a  strain  of  rapture,  *  These  are  thy   glorious  Avorks, 
Parent   of  good;  Almighty  Father,  thine  this  universal 
frame;  these  wonderous  fair— surpassing  wonder  far — 
thyself  how  wonderous  then ! '    Tears  gushed  in  my  eyes, 


73  LIFE   OF   REV.   JOHN   MURRAY. 

as  I  thus  expressed  the  transport  of  my  soul.  The  men 
were  astonished,  yet  they  seemed  pleased j  I  asked  them 
the  name  of  the  river?  They  replied,  'the  Avon,  sir.' 
Then,  said  I,  it  flows  through  the  native  place  of  Shaks- 
peare.  Shakspeare,  who  is  he?'  A  writer,  I  replied: 
wondering  at  myself  for  mentioning  his  name;  but  I 
thought  of  Shakspeare,  and  I  have  ever  been  accustomed 
to  think  loud;  the  thought  was  an  addition  to  my  plea- 
sures, and,  from  the  abundance  of  the  heart,  the  mouth 
speaketh.  My  companions  could  not  fail  of  discovering, 
that  I  came  from  Ireland,  yet  they  cast  no  reflections  up- 
on me,  as  is  the  custom  with  low  people,  upon  these  oc- 
casions; they  were  rather  disposed  to  treat  me  kindly. 
'  I  fancy,'  said  one  of  them,  '  you  are  a  Methodist.  I 
am,  said  I— I  do  not  deny  it. 

'  Then  my  Bess  will  be  glad  to  see  thee,  I'll  warrant  me; 
wool  thee  come  along  with  me  ?  Thee  may  go  farther, 
and  fare  worse,  I  can  tell  thee  that.'  '  Ay,  ay,'  said  the 
other,  *  Thee  had  best  go  with  my  neighbor — I'll  warrant 
thee  good  cheer.'  I  thanked  this  kind  man,  and  my  heart 
swelled  with  gratitude  to  that  Being,  in  whose  hands  are 
the  hearts  of  all  his  creatures,  for  thus  meeting  me  on  my 
entrance  into  this  strange  city,  with  loving-kindness,  and 
tender  mercy.  We  walked  on  together,  mutually  delight- 
ed; I,  with  every  thing  I  saw,  and  my  companions  with 
me,  for  my  expressed  satisfaction.  We  soon  stopped  at 
the  door  of  a  very  neat  house.  This  cannot,  said  my 
heart,  be  the  dwelling  of  a  hay-maker;  it  was,  however, 
and  opening  the  door,  he  said:  'Here,  Bess,  I  have 
brought  thee  home  a  young  Methodist^  I  know  thee  wilt 
be  glad  to  see  him.'  I  was  then,  by  this  rough,  good- 
hearted  man,  presented  to  his  wife:  '  Thou  must  find  out 
his  name  thyself  I  immediately  told  her  my  name, 
when,  in  a  friendly  manner,  she  requested  me  to  be  seat- 
ed. She  was  a  very  different  character  from  her  husband, 
her  manners  were  even  polished;  she  entered  into  friendly 
conversation  with  me,  and  we  derived  much  satisfaction 
therefrom,  when  her  husband  entering,  inquired  in  his 
rough  manner, '  What  the  plague,  Bess,  hast  got  no  supper 
for  thy  guest  ?'  This  was  a  matter  to  which  we  had  neither 
of  us  recurred.  The  good  man,  however,  was  speedily 
obeyed,  and  an  elegant  repast  was  forthwith  placed  upon 
the  table,  of  which  I  partook  with  appetite.  We  after- 
wards sang  one  of  the  Methodist  hymns,  and  we  united  in 
solemn  prayer;  while  my  heart  acknowledged  all  the 
fervor  of  devotion,  even  my  host  himself  seemed  affected 
and  pleased,  declaring  he  esteemed  himself  fortunate  in 


LIFE    or    HEV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  73 

meeting  me.  I  was  introduced  to  a  handsome  lodging 
room,  and  a  good  bed,  but  the  fulness  of  my  grateful 
heart  would  not,  for  some  time,  allow  me  to  close  my 
eyes;  at  length  I  sunk  into  the  most  refreshing  slumbers, 
and  I  arose  the  next  morning  greatly  exhilarated,  I  was 
received  by  my  hospitable  host,  and  hostess,  with  «very 
mark  of  satisfaction;  we  breakfasted  together,  sang  a 
hymn,  and  addressed  the  throne  of  grace,  when  the  good 
man  went  forth  to  the  labors  of  the  field,  requesting  that 
I  would  not  think  of  leaving  them.  In  the  course  of  the 
morning,  the  good  lady  informed  me,  that  they  had  re- 
cently settled  in  Bath,  a  Mr.  Tucker,  who  had  been  a 
preacher  in  Ireland.  My  heart  leaped  at  this  intelligence; 
of  all  the  preachers,  with  whom  I  had  ever  associated,  this 
man  possessed  the  greatest  share  of  my  affection.  His 
tender,  innocent,  childlike  disposition,  not  only  endeared 
him  to  me,  but  to  all  who  were  acquainted  with  his  worth. 
My  hostess  was  charmed  to  learn,  that  I  was  known  to 
Mr.  Tucker:  I  solicited  her  to  direct  me  to  his  residence, 
but  when  she  inforn>ed  me,  that,  by  the  death  of  his  fa- 
ther, he  had  recently  come  into  possession  of  thirty 
thousand  pounds  sterling,  I  became  apprehensive  I  should 
not  be  recognised.  But  I  had  occasion  to  reproach 
myself  for  suspicions,  for  no  sooner  was  I  conducted  to 
his  dwelling,  than  he  caught  me  in  his  arms,  and  express- 
ed the  highest  satisfaction.  Upon  introducing  me  to  his 
lady,  he  said:  '  My  dear,  this  young  man  is  the  eldest  son 
of  one  of  the  best  men  I  ever  knew.  No  man  ever  pos- 
sessed a  larger  share  of  my  venerating  affection :  I  love 
this  young  person  as  his  son,  and  I  love  him  for  himself; 
and  when  you,  my  dear,  know  him  as  I  do,  the  goodness 
of  your  own  heart  will  compel  you  to  love  him  as  I  do.' 
How  highly  gratifying  all  this  to  me,  at  such  a  time,  in 
such  a  place,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  lady,  whose  guest 
I  was!  but  I  must  be  her  guest  no  longer;  this  warm- 
hearted friend  of  my  father,  and  of  myself,  would  not 
allow  me  to  leave  his  house  nor  the  city  for  a  long  season: 
indeed,  it  was  greatly  against  his  will,  that  I  left  BatK 
when  I  did.  I  promised,  I  would  call  every  day  upon 
my  worthy  host  and  hostess,  which  promise  I  punctually 
performed.  Mr,  Tucker  insisted  upon  my  giving  them 
a  discourse  in  the  church  in  which  he  officiated;  for, 
although  possessed  of  an  independent  fortune,  he  yet  con- 
tinued to  preach  to  the  people.  On  Sunday,  ^then,  I 
preached  in  the  city  of  Bath,  to  great  acceptation.  My 
host  and  hostess  (the  hospitable  hay-maker  and  wife) 

7* 


74  LIFE    OF    REV      JOHN    MURRAY. 

were  present,  and  felicitated  themselves  that  they  had 
introduced  a  man,  so  much  approved. 

My  Reverend  friend  conducted  me  from  place  to  place, 
showing  me  every  thing  curious  in  that  opulent  resort 
of  the  nobility.  It  was  to  this  faithful  friend  that  I  com- 
municated, in  confidence,  the  difficulties  under  which  I 
labored,  respecting  niy  religious  principles.  I  observed 
to  him,  that  I  could  not  with  a  good  conscience,  repro- 
bate doctrines,  which,  as  I  firmly  believed  originated 
with  God,  nor  advocate  sentiments  diametrically  oppo- 
site to  what  I -considered  as  truth.  On  this  account  I 
could  not  cordially  unite  with  Mr.  Wesley,  or  his  preach- 
ers. Mr.  Tucker  saw  the  force  of  my  objections;  nay, 
he  felt  them  too,  for  he  was  at  that  instant  nearly  in  the 
same  predicament  with  myself.  Yet  we  could  not  hit 
upon  an  expedient  to  continue  in  the  connexion,  and  pre- 
serve our  integrity.  My  anxiety  however,  to  reach  the 
capital  compelled  me  to  press  forward;  and  my  kind 
friend,  convinced  I  was  not  to  be  prevailed  upon  further 
to  delay  my  departure,  engaged  a  place  in  the  coach  for 
me,  discharging  all  the  attendant  expenses,  and  placing, 
besides,  a  handsome  gratuity  in  my  pocket.  Of  my 
first  host  and  hostess  I  took  a  friendly  leave,  gratitude 
,,  has  stamped  their  images  upon  my  bosom;  I  left  them, 
"  and  my  other  kind  friends,  in  tears;  we  commended  each 
other  to  the  kind  God,  who,  in  his  own  way,  careth  for 
us.  I  have  since  been  greatly  astonished,  indeed  I  was 
at  the  time  surprised,  at  my  thus  hastening  to  quit  a 
place,  where  I  was  furnished  with  every  thing,  my  heart 
ought  to  have  desired,  when  the  prospect  before  me  was 
at  least  uncertain;  but  Ihave  been,  all  my  days,  a  mys- 
tery to  myself,  nor  is  this  mystery  yet  unravelled.  I  re- 
tired this  night  to  bed,  but  did  not  close  my  eyes,  until 
near  the  dawn  of  day  yet  my  reflections  upon  my  pil- 
low were  charming;  I  clearly  saw  the  good  hand  of  God 
in  all  my  movements;  I  was  enchanted  with  every  thing 
I  had  seen,  and  with  the  prospect  of  what  I  had  still  to 
see.  O !  how  sweet  in  early  life,  are  those  sensations, 
which  are  the  ofFspnng  of  vigorous  hope  how  great  are 
the  joys  of  expectation !  No  one  ever  derived  more  high- 
wrought  pleasures  from  hope,  than  myself.  I  quitted 
my  bed  just  at  the  dawn  of  day,  after  a  refreshing  slum- 
ber; I  had  apprized  the  people  at  the  stage  house,  the 
evening  before,that  I  should  walk  on,  and  let  the  stage 
overtake  me;  this  I  did,  and  a  most  delightful  walk  I 
had.  I  met  the  Aurora,  the  rising  sun,  the  waking  song- 
sters of  the  hedges,  the  lowing  tenants  of  the  mead,  the 


LIFE    OF    HEV.   JOHN    MURRAY.  75 

lusty  laborer,  with  his  scythe,  preparing  to  out  down  the 
bending  burden  of  the  flowery  meadow.     The  increas- 
ing beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenes,  the  fragrant  scent 
of  the  new-mowed  hay,   all,  all,  were  truly  delightful; 
and  thus  enchanted,  with  spirits  light  as  air,  I  passed 
on  till  I  reached  the  Devizes,,  nineteen  miles  from  Bath, 
where,  after  1  had  breakfasted,  the  coach  overtook  me, 
in  which,  I  was  soon  seated,  finding  a  ride,  after  walk- 
ing, more  abundantly  refreshing;  we  rolled  over  the  finest 
road  in  the  world,  with  such  rapidity,  that  we  reached  Lon- 
don before  sunset.     How  much  was  my  heart  elated^as  1 
passed  over  this  charming  country;  how  did  it  palpitate 
with  pleasure,  as  I  advanced  toward  the  metropolis;  yet  still 
I  had  no  fixed  plan,  nor  knew  I  what  I  should  do,  or 
whither  repair !     True,  I  had  some  letters  to  deliver,  but, 
in  the  hurry  of  my  spirits,  I  had  forgotten  them;,  and  on 
being  set  down  at  the  stage  house  in  London,  I  kft  my 
trunk  without  a  single  line  of  intimation  to  whom  it  be- 
longed, and  wandered  about  the  city,  feasting  my  eyes 
with  the  variety,  which  it  presented,  '  till  twilight  grey 
had  in  her  sober  livery,  all  things  clad,'  when  I  began  to 
turn  my  thoughts  towards  a  shelter  for  the  night.     I  en- 
tered a  tavern,  requesting  a  supper,  and  a  lodging,  botli 
of  which  were  readily  granted;  I  sat  pensive,  I  was  weary 
my  spirits  sunk,  I  ate  little,  and  retiring  to  my  chamber, 
after  securing  the  door,  I  fell  on  my  knees,  beseeching 
the  Father  of  mercies  to  have  compassion  upon  me.     1 
wept,  wished  myself  at  home,  and  my  heart  seemed  to 
die  within  me,  at  the  consideration  that  I  could  not  re- 
turn, without  fulfilling ,  the   predictions   of  my  matron 
friend;  '  You  will  return,'  said  she,   and,  perhaps  find 
this  door  simt  against  you.'     Never,  said  I,  never;  I  will 
die  first.     This  was   the  most  melancholy  night  I  had 
passed,  since  I  left  the  dwelling  of  my  mother..    I  arose 
in  the  morning  unrefreshed,  I  inquired  where  the  stage 
put  up;    had  forgotten;  I  told  my  host,  I  had  left  my 
trunk  at  the  stage  house.     He  soon  found  the  place,  but 
he  despaired  of  ever  obtaining  my  trunk;  I  recovered  it, 
however,  and  a  porter  took  it  to  my  lodgings,  there  I  be- 
lieved it  safe,,  although  I  knevi  nothing  of  the  people. 
I  recollected  where  I  had  lived,  when  with  my  father  in 
this  city;  thither  1  repaired;  but  although  there  were  re- 
maining individuals  who  remembered  him,  no  one  recog- 
nised me.     I  was  however  kindly  noticed,  for  his  sake, 
and  soon  introduced  to  many,,  by  whom  I  was  much  caress- 
ed..   From  this  T  reaped  no  benefit;  a  few  of  my  Metho- 
dist friends,  whom  I  had  known  in  Ireland,  visited  me. 


7&  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

butj  seeing  me  in  company  which  they  did  not  approve, 
they  stood  aloof  from  me.     In  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Wes- 
ley, and  his  adherents,  ray  principles  were  against  me. 
They  did  not  believe  any  man  could  be  pious,  who   be- 
lieved   the    doctrine  of    predestination.      I   remember, 
some  time  after  the  death  of  my  father,  sitting  with  Mr. 
Wesley  in  the  house  of  my  mother,  and  conversing  on 
this  truly  interesting  subject;  I  ventured  to  remark,  that 
there  were  some  good  men,  Avho  had  given  their  suffrage 
in  favor  of  the  doctrine  of  Election,  and  I  produced  my 
father,  as  an  instance,  when,  laying  his  hand  upon  my 
shoulder,  with  great  earnestness,  he  said:  '  My  dear  lad, 
believe  me,  thei-e  never  was  a  man  in  this  world,  who 
believed  the  doctrine  of  Calvin,  bu.t  the  language  of  his^ 
heart  was,  "  I  may  live  as  I  list."  '     It  was,  as  I  have  be- 
fore  observed,   generally  believed,  that  I  inherited  the 
principles  of  my  father      The   Methodists   in   London 
were  afraid  of  me,  and  I  was  afraid  of  them;  we  there- 
fore, as  if  by  mutual  consent,  avoided  each  other;  my 
wish  to  attach  myself  to  Mr.  Whitefield  was  still  para- 
mount in  my  bosom,  but  Mr.  Whitefield  was  not  at  home,, 
and  it  was  unfortunate  for  me  that  he  was  not.     Every 
day   I  was   more  and  more    distinguished;  but  it  was 
by  those,  whose  neglect  of  me  would  have  been  a  mercy : 
by  their  nominal  kindness  I  was  made  to  taste  of  plea- 
sures, to  which  I  had  before  been  a  stranger,   and  those 
pleasures  were  eagerly  zested.     I  became  what  is  called 
very  good  company,  and  I  resolved  to  see,  and  become 
acquainted  with  life;  yet  I  determined,  my  knowledge 
of  the  town,  and  its  pleasures,  should  not  affect  my  stand- 
ing in  the  religious  world.     But  I  was  miserably  deceiv- 
ed; gradually,  my  former  habits  seemed  to  fade  from  my 
recollection.     To  my  new  connexions  I  gave,    and  re- 
ceived from  them,  what  I  then  believed  pleasure,  without 
alloy.     Of  music,  and  dancing,   I  was  very  fond,   and  I 
delighted  in  convivial  parties;  Vauxhall,  the  playhouses, 
were  charming:  I  had  never  known  life  before.     It  is 
true  my  secret  Mentor  sometimes  embittered  my  enjoy- 
ments; the   precepts,   the   example  of  my  father,  stared 
me  in  the  face;  the  secret  sigh  of  my  bosom  arose,,  as  I 
mournfully  reflected  on  what  I  had  lost.     But  I  had  not 
sufficient  resolution  to  retrace  my  steps;  indeed  I  had  lit- 
tle leisure.     I  was  in  a  perpetual  round  of  company;  I 
was  intoxicated  with  pleasure;    I  was  invited  into  one 
society,  and  another,  until  there  was  hardly  a  society  in 
London,  of  which  I  was  not  a  member.     How  long  this 
life  of  dissipation   would  have  lasted,  had  not  my   re- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  77 

sources  failed,  I  know  not.  I  occasionally  encountered 
one,  and  another,  of  my  religious  connexions,  who  se- 
riously expostulated  with  me;  but  I  generally  extorted 
from  them  a  laugh,  which  ultimately  induced  them  to 
shun  me.  I  had  an  interview  with  Mr.  Barnstable,  a 
preacher  in  Mr.  Wesley's  connexion,  and  questioning 
him  respecting  many,  whom  I  had  known,  he  informed 
me  that  Mr.  Trinbath,  at  whose  house  I  had  passed  so 
delightful  an  evening  with  Mr.  Whitefield,  in  the  city  of 
Cork,  was  no  more!  His  beautiful  wife  had  quitted  her 
husband,  her  children,  and  her  mother,  and  accompanied 
a  private  soldier  to  America ! ! !  Her  doteing  husband, 
thus  cruelly  deceived,  lost  first  his  reason,  and  afterwards 
his  life.  Mr.  Barnstable  inquired,  what  had  become  of 
me  so  long;  and,  after  severely  admonishing  me,  he 
pronounced  upon  me  an  anathema,  and  quitted  me.  It 
will  be  supposed,  I  was  not  much  pleased  with  him,  and, 
assuredly,  1  was  at  variance  with  myself;  and  above  all, 
I  was  grievously  afflicted  for  the  misfortunes,  and  death 
of  the  once  happy  Trinbath.  It  has  often  been  a  matter 
of  astonishment  to  me,  how,  after  such  a  religious  edu- 
cation as  I  had  received;  after  really,  vitally  entering  in- 
to the  spirit  of  the  life,  to  which  I  was  from  infancy  ha- 
bituated; after  feelingly  bearing  my  public  testimony 
against  the  follies,  and  the  dissipation  of  the  many,  I 
should  so  entirely  renounce  a  life  of  serious  piety,  and 
embrace  a  life  of  frolic,  a  life  of  whinj !  It  is  also  won- 
derful, that,  thus  changed,  I  proceeded  no  further;  that 
I  was  guilty  of  no  flagrant  vices;  that  I  was  drawn  into 
no  fatal  snares.  Many  were  the  devices  employed  to 
entangle  me;  which  devices  I  never  deliberately  sought 
to  avoid..  Doubtless,  I  was  upheld  by  the  good  hand  of 
God;  for  which  sustaining  power  my  full  soul  offers  its 
grateful  orisons. 

I  pursued  this  inconsiderate,  destructive  course,  upwards 
of  a  year,  never  permanently  reflecting  where  I  was,  or 
how  I  should  terminate  my  career.  My  money  was  near- 
ly exhausted:  but  this  was  beneath  my  consideration: 
and,  as  I  have  said,  serious  reflection  was  arrested  by 
large  circles  of  friends  successively  engaging  me,  either 
abroad,  or  at  home,  in  town  or  in  the  country.  Thus 
did  my  life  exhibit  a  constant  tissue  of  folly,  and  indis- 
cretion. But  the  time  of  my  emancipation  drew  near; 
a  demand,  which  I  had  barely  sufficient  to  answer,  was 
made  upon  me  by  my  tailor;  I  started,  and  stood  for  some 
time  motionless.  The  money,  which  I  believed  would 
never  be  expended,  was  already  gone.     I  saw  no  method 


78  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHX    MURRAY. 

of  recruiting  my  finances,  and  I  stood  appalled,  when, 
at  this  distressing  moment,  a  gay  companion  broke  in 
upon  me;  he  was  on  his  Avay  to  the  Club;  there  was 
to  be  grand  doings:  John  Wilkes,  esquire,  was  that 
night  to  become  a  member.  I  instantly  forgot  every  thing 
of  a  gloomy  nature,  and  went  off  as  light,  as  a  feathered 
inhabitant  of  the  air.  I  never  was  fond  of  the  pleasures 
of  the  bottle,  of  social  pleasures  no  one  more  so;  and, 
that  I  might  enjo}^  society  with  an  unbroken  zest,  I  have 
frequently  thrown  the  wine  under  the  table,  rejoicing  that 
I  thus  preserved  my  reason. 

This  period  of  my  life  had  so  much  of  variety,  and 
yet  so  much  of  sameness,  that  a  picture  of  a  week  would 
be  nearly  a  complete  exhibition  of  all  my  deviations. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  plea- 
sure, greedily  gras])ing  at  enjoyments,  which  both  my 
habits  and  my  circumstances  should  have  taught  me  to 
shun.  Upon  this  subject  I  do  not  love  to  ciwell^  if 
possible,  I  would  erase  it  from  my  recollection;  and 
yet,  I  derive  abundant  satisfaction,  from  the  manifesta- 
tion of  Divine  Goodness,  so  strikingly  exemplified, 
through  the  whole  of  my  wanderings,  in  preserving  me, 
by  the  strong  arm  of  the  Almighty,  from  numerous  evils 
to  which,  in  the  society  I  frequented,  and  in  the  city 
where  I  resided,  I  was  hourly  exposed.  But,  as  1  said, 
necessity,  imperious  necessity,  compelled  me  to  pause; 
aiid  it  was,  in  truth,  a  blessed  necessity.  Had  I  been 
inclined  to  forget,  that  my  whole  stock  was  expended, 
the  frequent  calls  made  upon  me  for  monies,  which  I 
could  not  pay,  would  have  constituted  a  uniform,  and 
impressive  memento.  My  embarrassments  were  soon 
rumored  abroad;  and  although  I  had  many  friends,  who 
appeared  to  regard  money  as  little  as  myself,  who,  de- 
claring they  could  not  exist  without  me,  insisted  upon 
my  being  of  their  parties,  yet  a  consciousness  of  depend- 
ence rendered  me  wretched,  while  indirect  remarks, 
thrown  out  by  some  individuals,  served  to  increase  my 
wretchedness.  Easter  holy-days  are,  in  England,  days 
of  conviviality.  Parties  of  pleasure  were  every  where 
forming.  My  connexions  were  hastening  to  my  favor- 
ite retreat,  Richmond;  inclination  led  me  to  join  them; 
but  they  either  were  not,  or  I  suspected  they  were  not, 
as  usual,  warm  in  their  solicitations,  and  1  declined  a 
less  importunate  invitation.  I,  however,  took  a  solitary 
walk,  and  I  met  reflection  on  the  way.  I  had  in  the 
world  but  one  half-penny,  and  a  mendicant,  asking  alms, 
•crossed  my  path;  I  gave  him  my  half-penny,  and  walk- 


LIFE    or    REV     JOHN    MURRAY.  .       79 

cd  on,  till,  passing  out  of  the  city,  I  advanced  into  the 
fields.     I  began  to  feel  exhausted;  and,  under  the  wide 
spreading  shade  of  a  tree,  I  sat  me  down.     I  continued, 
for  some  time,  in  a  state  of  fixed  despair,  regardless  of 
life,  and  every  thing  which  it  had  to  bestow.     The  eye 
of  retrospection  ran  over  past  scenes;  I  remembered  my 
father's  house,  and  the  plenty  which,  particularly  at  this 
season,  reigned  there.     This  was  nearly  the  anniversary 
of  his  death;  the  mournful  scene  passed  in  review  be- 
fore me;  his  paternal  advice,  his  paternal  pray«rs  flash- 
ed upon  my  soul;  the  eye  .of  my  mind  dwelt  upon  the 
family  I  had  deserted.     Oh!  could  they  now  behold  mel 
Would  they  not' be  gratified.'*    It  hoped  they  would;  their 
pity  would  have  pained  most  exquisitely.     Still  my  emo- 
tions were  not  of  an  ameliorating  description;  my  heart  was 
indurated,  and,  had  I  possessed  the  means,  I  should  have 
proceedlfed  in  the  path  of  destruction.     At  length  I  seemed 
awakened  to  a  full  sense  of  the  horrors  of  my  situation;  my 
heart  throbbed  with  anguish  as  I  spontaneously  exclaim- 
ed: Am  I  the  son  of  such  a  man,  the  son  of  such  pa- 
rents .''  am  I  that  pious  youth  so  much,  and  by  so  many 
admired?  am  I  the  preacher,  who   at  so  early  a  period 
preached   to   others,   drawing   tears   from  the   eyes   c^ 
those  who  heard  me?     And  is  it  thus   my  journey   to 
England  terminates?  am  I  now  alone,  and  unfriended, 
without  an  extricating  hand  to  save  me  ?     Whither,  ah ! 
whither  shall  I  go,  and  what  step  is  now  to  be  taken  ?  At 
this  moment,  the  voice  of  consolation  vibrated  upon  my 
mental  ear:     '  Imitate  the  prodigal  of  old.  Arise,  and  go 
unto  your  Father;  say,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and 
in  thy  sight,  I  am  no  longer  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son : 
but  beseech  Him,  nevertheless,  to  receive  you  into  his 
service.'     This  counsel  proceeding  from  a  quarter,  from 
which  I  had  not  for  a  long  season  heard,  deeply  aflfect- 
ed  me,  and  bitterly   did   I   weep,  in  the   dread   of  that 
refusal,  which,  should  I  venture  to  follow  the  guidance 
of  the  monitor  within  I  was,  alas !  but  too   certain   of 
receiving.     A  thousand  thoughts,  like   a   swarm  of  in- 
sects, buzzed  around  me,  but  no  thought  gave  me  peace. 
How  exquisite  was  the  torture.,  wJiich  at  this  moment  I 
suffered.     But  the  approach  of  evening  roused  me  to  a 
conviction  of  the  necessity  of  moving;  but  whither  should 
I  go?  that  was  the  question.     '  .Suppose,'  said  my  invi- 
sible monitor,  'you  go   to  the  tabernacle?'   and,  burst- 
ing into  a  flood  of  tears;  I  said,  Yes,  I  will  present  my- 
self among  the  multitude — ^yes,  I  will  go;  but  how  shall 
I  meet  the  eye  of  any  individual,  who  has  formerly 


80  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

known  me?  how  dare  I  stand  among  the  worshipper^5  of 
that  God,  whom  I  have  so  grossly  offended?  Yet  I  will 
go;  and,  with  slow  and  mournful  steps,  I  walked  for- 
ward. The  congregation  had  assembled.  I  entered, 
taking  my  stand  under  the  gallery.  I  dared  not  raise 
my  eyes;  they  were  bathed  in  tears.  Mr.  Whitefield, 
in  his  usual,  energetic  manner,  addressed  his  audience;  but 
no  sounds  of  consolation  reached  me.  At  last  he  said:  'But 
there  may  be,  in  some  corner  of  this  house  a  poor,  de- 
sponding, despairing  soul,  who,  having  sinned,  greatly 
sinned  against  God  and  against  himself,  may  be  afraid 
to  lift  toward  Heaven  his  guilty  eye;  he  may,  at  this 
moment,  be  suffering  the  dreadful  consequences  of  his 
Avandering  from  the  sources  of  true  happiness;  and  pos- 
sibly he  may  apprehend  he  shall  never  be  permitted  to 
return !  If  there  be  any  one  of  this  description  present, 
I  have  to  inform  such  individual,  that  God  is  still  his 
loving  Father;  that  He  says,  return  unto  me,  my  poor, 
backsliding  child,  and  I  will  heal  your  backslidings,  and 
love  you  freely.  What  message  shall  I  return  my  Mas- 
ter from  you,  my  poor,  afflicted,  wandering,  weeping 
brother?  shall  I  say,  you  are  suitably  penetrated  by  his 
gracious  invitation,  and  that  you  would  come  with 
weeping,  and  supplication;  that  you  would  fly  with  grat- 
itude, and  prostrate  yourself  before  Him,  were  you 
not  so  much  injured  by  your  wanderings;  that  you  feel 
you  are  not  able;  and  that  you  should  blush  to  ask  his 
assistance  ?  Is  this  your  message  ?  poor,  poor  soul !  never 
fear,  your  gracious  Father  will  shortly  send  you  every 
needful  aid.'  All  this  was  said  to  me;  at  least,  to  my 
wondering  spirit,  it  thus  appeared;  and  I  seemed  as  if 
expiring,  amid  the  mingling  emotions  of  regret,  apprehen- 
sion, and  hope. 

I  left  the  tabernacle  under  these  potent  impressions, 
and,  crossing  Moorfields,  I  was  overtaken  by  one  of  my 
old  religious  connexions,  who,  regarding  me  with  won- 
der, said, '  Am  I  so  happy  to  see  you,  one  of  the  many 
who  were  at  the  tabernacle  this  evening  ? '  My  reply 
was  indicative  of  the  sorrow  of  my  heart.  He  proceeded 
to  make  many  remarks,  until,  in  the  moment  of  separa- 
tion, he  said,  '  Well,  my  friend,  perhaps,  you  will  go, 
from  hence,  into  company  where  you  will  forget  all  that 
you  have  this  evening  heard.'  My  heart  was  very  full; 
and  from  its  abundance  I  said.  No,  never  will  I  again 
mingle  in  circles  calculated  to  efface  impressions,  which 
I  will  cherish  to  the  latest  hour  of  my  existence.  Let 
these  tears,  these  fast-falling  tears,  evince  my  sincerity. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY..  81 

My  friend  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  my  returning  to  the 
path,  from  which  I  had  wandered;  but  he  rejoiced  with, 
fear  and  trembling.  He  knew  my  connexions  were  nu- 
merous, and  that  my  vivacity  rendered  me  the  life  of 
those  convivial  circles,  where  I  bad  so  long  figured.  But 
the  grace  of  God  upheld  me,,  and  never,  from  that  mo- 
ment, did  I  unite  with  those  associates,  from  which  I  was 
at  first  separated  by  necessity. 

I  was  now  an  insulated  being.  I  carefully  avoided  my 
former  companions,  and  my  religious  connexions  avoided 
pie;  thus  1  had  now  abundant  leisure  for  reflection. 
Some  time  elapsed,  before  the  change,  which  had  taken 
place,  reached  the  extremity  of  those  circles,  in  which  I 
had  moved.  Many  who  heard,  lent  no  credence  to  a  re- 
port, which  they  believed  without  foundation.  The 
greater  number  of  those  laughter-loving  beings,  who  had 
attached  themselves  to  me,  never  having  imbibed  any 
religious  sentiments,  had  not  learned  the  habits  of  my 
former  life.  Many  individuals  called  upon  me  as  usual^ 
and  found  me  a  different  man,  from  him,  whom  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  see.  A  few  suspecting  the  cause, 
sought  to  relieve  my  mind,  by  warm  and  liberal  assurances 
of  never-failing  friendship;  and  they  generously  tendered 
the  unlimited  use  of  their  purses !  I  made  my  acknowledg- 
ments; but  assured  them,  the  whole  world  as  a  bribe,  would 
be  insufficient  to  lead  me  again  into  the  paths  of  folly.  I 
was  not,  I  said,  unhappy  because  I  no  longer  possessed 
ability  to  run  the  career  of  error,  certainly  not;  my  infe- 
licity originated,  from  the  consideration,  that  I  had  ever 
receded  from  the  paths  of  peace.  Some  resented  my  re- 
marks as  a  tacit  insult  upon  themselves;  others  ridiculed 
me,  and  pronounced  me  under  the  influence  of  a  strong 
delirium;  and  two  or  three,  who  still  loved  me  too  well 
to  separate  themselves  from  me,  were  for  a  time,  induced 
to  reflect  seriously  upon  their  own  situation:  but  these, 
also,  shortly  disappeared  J  and,  of  the  numerous  triflers,. 
with  whom  I  had  so  many  months  fluttered,  not  a  single 
loiterer  remained;  and  most  devoutly  did  I  render  thanks 
to  Almighty  God,  for  extricating  me  from  such  associates 
I  boarded  in  the  house  of  a  very  lively,  vivacious  man;, 
indeed  his  whole  family  might  have  been  denominated 
sons  and  daughters  of  mirth:  This  fact  had  been  their 
principal  recommendation  to  me,  but  it  now  added  to  the 
burden  of  my  mind.  I  made  inquiry  after  another  lodg- 
ing, but,  on  contemplating  a  removal,  difficulties,  to  which 
I  had  not  before  recurred,  stared  me  in  the  face.  I  was 
considerably  in  arrears  to  my  host,  and,  as  I  must  depart 


S2  I.IFE    OF    REV.    JOHK    MURRAYv 

in  a  different  state  of  mind,  from  that  which  I  was  iu^ 
when  I  l)ecame  his  lodger,  and  which  had  impressed  him 
in  my  favor;  I  could  not  expect  he  Avould  be  very  kindly 
disposed  toward  me.     I  was  indebted  to  others,  and  my 
distresses  seemed  hourly  to  accumulate.      Both  present 
and  future  support  were  alike  beyond  my  reach,  and  it 
appeared  to  me,  I  had  attained  the  climax  of  misery.     1     . 
closed  my  door,  I  prostrated  myself  before  the  God  who. 
had  created  me,  beseeching  him  to  have  mercy  upon  me  j 
again  my  sad,  my  sorrowing  heart,  revisited  the  home  I 
had  abandoned;  stripped  of  its  allurements,  my  mad  pas- 
sion   for   travelling   appeared  in   its    native   deformity;, 
agonizing  dread  overtook  me,  and  my  terrified  imagina- 
tion pointed  out,   and  anticipated,  a  thousand  horrors. 
Many  devices  were  suggjested  to  my  forlorn  mind,  and 
death  itself  was  presented  as  my  last  resort.     But  starting 
from  an  idea  so  impious^  Let  me,,  I  exclaimed,  at  least 
avoid  plunging  into  irremediable  perdition.     Thus  I  spent 
the  day,  and  in  the  evening  I  attended  the"  tabernacle.     I 
considered  myself,  while  there  as  the  most  destitute  indi- 
vidual in  the  whole  assembly.     I  generally  occupied  a 
remote  corner,  my  arms  were  folded,  my  eyes  cast  down, 
and  my  tears  flowing;  indeed,  my  eyes  were  seldom  dry,. 
and  my  heart  was  always  full;  for,  at  this  period  of  my 
life,  I  rarely  .tasted  any  thing  like  consolation.     Coming 
out  of  the  tabernacle,  one  evening,  a  serious  young  man 
thus  accosted  me:  '  Cheer  up,  thou  weeping,  sorrowing 
soul — ^be  of  good  cheer,  thy  God  will  save  thee."*     I  caught 
his  hand;  God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir,  whoever  you  are! 
but  you  do  not  know  to  whom  you  are  speaking.     '  Oh 
yes,  I  am  speaking  to  a  sinner,  like  myself.     No,  no,  I 
returned,  the  wide  world  does  not  contain  so  great  a  sin- 
ner as  myself;  for,  in  the  face  of  an  education,  calculated 
to  eradicate  every  evil  propensity;  and  of  precepts,  and 
examples,   drawn  from  our  most  holy  religion,   which 
ought  to  have  rendered  me  a   uniform  servant  of  the 
Most  High;  I  hqive  mingled  in  circles,  consisting  of  the 
idle,   the  dissipated,,  and  the  profane;    I  have  run  the 
career  of  folly,  and  the  anguish  of  my  soul  is  a  conse- 
quence  of  my    manifold  offences.      The    kind-hearted 
young  man  strove  to  pour  into  my  wounds  the  oil  and 
wine  of  consolation.     We  walked  together,  quite  through 
Moorfields;  at  his  request,  I  promised  to  meet  him  at  the 
tabernacle  the  ensuing  evening,  and  I  was  greatly  impa- 
tient for  the  appointed  time.     Passing  Moorfields,.  agree- 
ably to  my  engagements,  I  beheld  a  large  congregation 
assembled  to  hear  one  of  Mr.  Wesley's  preachersi  I  tar- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOftN    M'URRAY.  89 

ried  until  I  saw  the  preacher  mount  the  stage,  but  what 
were  my  emotions,  when  I  recognised  him  of  whom  I 
was  so  fond,  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Little,  and  who  first  in- 
troduced me  as  a  public  speaker.  I  hastily  withdrew 
from  the  place,  terrified,  lest  his  eye  should  meet  mine; 
but  my  soul  was  tortured  by  the  comparison  of  Avhat  I 
was,  when  I  first  saw  him,  with  my  present  situation. 
I  was  this  evening  much  affected;  indeed,  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  any  child  of  sorrow  to  attend  upon  Mr.  White- 
field,  without  feelings  of  the  most  impressive  nature.  I 
looked  around  for  my  companion  of  the  past  evening, 
but  I  saw  him  not;  and  I  was  pained  by  the  disappoint- 
ment. On  my  departing  from  the  tabernacle,  however, 
he  again  took  my  hand,  assuring  me,  he  was  glad  to  see 
me,  and  repeating  a  verse  of  a  hymn :  '  We  shall  not  al- 
ways make  our  moan,'  &-c.  which  hymn  I  had  often  sang, 
and  of  which  I  was  very  fond.  I  melted  into  tears;  this 
man  appeared  to  me  as  an  angel  of  God,  and  most  de- 
voutly did  I  bless  the  Father  of  my  spirit,  for  sending  me 
such  a  comforter.  I  was  in  haste  to  unbosom  myself  to 
him,  to  make  him  acquainted  with  the  extent  of  my  er- 
rors; but  this  was  a  subject,  upon  which  he  did  not  seem 
in  haste  to  hear  me.  He,  however,  urged  me  to  draw 
consolation  from  the  promises  of  our  God,  which  he  pro- 
nounced all  yea  and  amen,  in  the  Redeemer:  He  also  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  meet  me,  at  the  table  of  the  Lord,  upon 
the  following  Sunday:  for  this,  my  own  heart  ardently 
panted,  and  I  engaged,  if  possible,  to  obtain  a  ticket  of 
admittance.  My  concern  for  my  very  reprehensible  ab- 
errations, as  they  affected  my  spiritual  interests,  so  com- 
pletely occupied  my  mind,  that  I  had  little  leisure  for  re- 
flection upon  my  pecuniary  embarrassments,  yet  my  cir- 
cumstances were  truly  deplorable.  I  was  in  debt,  Avith- 
out  the  means  of  making  payment,  nor  had  I  any  pros- 
pect of  future  support.  I  disdained  to  ask  charity,  and 
the  business,  of  which  I  had  obtained  a  superficial  knowl 
edge  in  Ireland,  was  not  encouraged  in  London.  The 
friend,  whom  I  first  saw  at  the  tabernacle,  had  continued 
a  vigilant  observer  of  my  conduct;  he  had  frequently 
visited  me,  and  my  eyes  convinced  him  I  was  no  longer 
the  gay,  inconsiderate  wanderer,  but  truly  a  man  of  sor- 
row. Compassionating  my  sufferings,  he  invited  me  to 
his  pleasant  home,  and,  in  a  voice  of  friendship,  request- 
ed I  would  pour  into  his  bosom  all  my  griefs.  I  did  so, 
and  his  resolution  was  instantly  taken.  To  my  great  con- 
solation, he  engaged  to  procure  me,  immediately,  another 
lodging,  to  make  my  present  landlord  easy,  and  to  pro- 


84  JLliPE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

cure  for  me,  if  I  was  willing,  the  means  of  future  sup- 
port; and  this,  without  rendering  me  dependent,  except 
upon  my  own  regular  efforts,  and  the  Being,  who  had 
called  me  into  existence.  Let  the  feeling  heart  judge  of 
the  indescribable  transports,  which  this  conversation  orig- 
inated in  my  soul.  Gratitude  swelled  in  my  bosom;  I 
^  experienced  all  its  sweet  enthusiasm;  and  hardly  could  I 
control  my  impatience,  for  the  execution  of  a  plan,  in 
every  view  so  desirable.  The  lodging  was  immediately 
obtained;  it  was  at  the  house  of  an  old  lady,  in  Bishop- 
gate's  street,  where  was  appropriated  solely  to  my  use, 
a  neat,  and  well  furnished  apartment.  The  succeeding 
morning,  this  benevolent  gentleman  attended  me  to  my 
late  lodging,  when,  inquiring  the  amount  of  my  debt,  I 
was  answered,  '  Not  a  penny,'  I  stood  amazed.  *  No,' 
said  my  good-natured  host,  '  not  a  penny.'  But  pray 
what  is  the  matter,  where  have  you  been,  where  are  you 
going.?  O!  dear,  O!  dear,  these  abominable  Methodists 
have  spoiled  as  clever  a  fellow,  as  ever  broke  bread;  I 
suppose  you  think  we  are  not  good  enough  for  you,  and 
so  you  wish  to  leave  us.'  I  was  greatly  affected.  Ex- 
cuse me  sir;  I  do  not  believe  myself  a  whit  better  than 
you;  but,  sir,  I  am  afraid  of  myself.  *  Ah!  you  have  no 
occasion:  I  am  sorry  you  are  going,  upon  my  soul  I  am. 
You  ought  to  stay  and  convert  me.'  Ah!  sir,  it  is  God, 
who  must  convert  both  you,  and  me.  We  shed  tears  at 
parting:  but  our  tears  flowed  from  a  difterent  source. 
He  wept,  that  he  should  no  more  be  amused  with  the 
whim  and  frolic  of  a  gay  young  man;  I,  that  I  had  ever 
sojourned  in  his  house.  I  was,  however,  suitably  im- 
pressed by  his  kindness,  although  our  intercourse  from 
this  moment  entirely  ceased.  The  following  week,  I 
obtained  a  situation,  as  one  of  the  aids  to  an  inspector  of 
a  broadcloth  manufactory;  I  was  glad  to  obtain  employ- 
ment at  any  rate.  Yet  it  is  a  fact,  I  was  never  designed 
for  a  man  of  business.  Nor  was  I  fully  satisfied  with  my 
associates;  they  were  not  in  my  way,  and  they,  therefore, 
made  me  a  subject  of  ridicule;  this,  to  weak  minds,  is 
perhaps  a  species  of  persecution,  of  all  others  the  most 
difficult  to  endure.  I  certainly  suffered  much  from  it; 
but,  if  I  could  obtain  no  satisfaction  with  them,  I  had  the 
more  whenever  I  left  them,  which  was  upon  the  evening^ 
of  every  day,  and  the  whole  of  Sunday.  I  was  delighted 
by  the  consideration,  that  I  was  living  by  my  own  exer- 
tions, and  in  a  way  to  discharge  debts,  which  wbre  a 
heavy  burden  upon  my  mind.  I  lived  frugally,  retrenching 
every  superfluity,  and  uniformly  denying  myself  all,  but 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  85 

the  absolute  necessaries  of  life;  and  I  had  very  soon  the 
felicity  of  knowing,  that  I  had  no  longer  a  creditor.     This 
complete  exoneration  was  followed  by  a  newly  revived 
and  ecstatic  hope,  of  being  again  admitted  to  my  Father's 
house,  from  which,  I  once  feared,  I  was  eternally  ex- 
cluded:    And  I  deemed  myself  happy,  beyond  expression 
happy,  upon  comparing  myself  with  those,  among  whom 
I  was  compelled  to  live;  who  were  posting,  without  con- 
cern, in  what  I  deemed  the  road  to  ruin,  which  I  had,  by 
divine  favor,  been  mercifully  drawn;  my  bosom  swelled 
with  the  most  delightful  sensations,  while  I  frequently 
exclaimed.  Lord,  why  me?     Why  take  roe,  and  leave 
these  poor,  unfortunate  beings  to  perish  in  a  state  of  sin, 
and  misery  ?     But  such  was  the  sovereign  will  and  plea- 
sure of  my  God;  he  would  have  mercy,   on  whom  he 
would  have  mercy,  and  whom  he  would  be  hardened. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  my  soul  was    sick  with  doubt  and 
apprehension.     When  engaged  in  the  work  of  self-exam- 
ination, one  evil  propensity,  after  another,  which  I  had 
believed  dead,  seemed  to  revive  in  my  bosom:  I  feared, 
that  my  faith  was  all  fancy ;  and  that  the  hope,  which   I 
encouraged,  was  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite,  which  would 
be  as  the  giving  up  of  the  ghost.     Upon  these  occasions, 
I  experienced  unutterable    anguish,    and   my  days    and 
nights  were,  with  very  little  intermission,  devoted  to  sor- 
row.    The  distress,  1  so  evidently  suffered,  endeared  me 
to  my  new  religious  connexions;  every  one  of  whom  en- 
deavored to  administer  qonsolation,  encouraging  me  to 
cherish  hope,  from  the  consideration  of  my  despairl     My 
life  was  now  more  active  than  it  had  ever  been,  and  my 
connexions  more  numerous.     I  was  much  occupied  by 
business,  yet  my  hours  of  devotion  were  sacred;  I  rose  at 
four  o'clock,   in   summer   and   winter.     My  meals  con- 
sumed but  a  small  portion  of  time.     The  moments,  thus 
passed  by  others,  were,  by  me,  devoted  to  private  prayer. 
My  evenings  were  passed  at  the  tabernacle,  and,  when 
Mr.  Whitefield  preached,  my  soul  was  transported.     I 
returned  home  exceedingly  refreshed,  and  prostrated  my- 
self at  the  footstool  of  my  Maker,  I  acknowledged  w  ith 
gratitude  the  tender  mercies  of  my  Redeemer,  who  had 
graciously  separated  me  from  those,  who  were  murdering 
their  time,  and  their  precious  souls;    and  my  thanksgiv- 
ings were  reiterated  to  that  God,  who  had  mercifully  res- 
cued me  from  enormities  so  prodigious.     Thus  rolled  on 
the  week,  until  Sunday;  to  me,  indeed,  a  holy  day,  and 
one  to  which  I  looked  forward  with  the  most  delightful 
anticipations.     Upon  this  morning,  I  arose  even  earlier 


86  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

than  usual;  attending  either  at  the  tabernacle,  or  at  the 
chapel,  in  Tottenham-court,  at  which  places  the  commu- 
nion was  alternately  given,  every  Sunday  morning. 
Great  numbers  attended  upon  these  occasions,  who  were 
not  regular  tabernacle  worshippers;  obtaining  a  ticket  of 
admittance,  they  took  their  seats.  It  appeared  to  me, 
like  a  prelibation  of  heaven.  The  Elect  of  God,  from 
every  denomination,  assembled  round  the  table  of  the 
Lord)  a  word  of  consolation  was  always  given,  and  an 
evangelical  hymn  most  delightfully  sung.  These  Sun- 
day mornings  were,  indeed,  golden  opportunities:  my 
doubts  were  generally  removed,  and  I  came  home  in  rap- 
tures. It  was  in  such  a  peacefully  religious  frame  of 
mind  as  this,  that  I  was  passing  from  the  tabernacle,  on  a 
line  summer's  morning,  deriving  high  satisfaction  from  the 
consideration,  that  I  loved  the  brethren-.  I  know,  said  I, 
internally,  that  I  have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  be- 
cause I  love  the  brethren.  It  is  true,  I  felt  a  very  strong 
affection  for  those,  with  whom  I  had  communed  in  the 
tabernacle;  but  passing  over  Moorfields,  i  saw  a  crowd 
of  people,  collected  under  the  shade  of  a  large  tree.  I 
inquired  of  a  passenger,  what  occasioned  the  assembling 
of  such  a  multitude;  and  I  was  informed,  one  of  James 
Relly's  preachers  was  disseminating  his  damnable  doc- 
trines to  the  infatuated  people !  My  soul  kindled  with  in- 
dignation; and,  from  the  abundance  of  an  heart,  over- 
flowing with  religious  zeal,  1  could  not  forbear  exclaim- 
ing: Merciful  God !  How  is  it,  that  thou  wilt  suffer  this 
Demon  thus  to  proceed?  are  not  mankind  naturally  bad 
enough,  but  must  these  wretches  be  suffered  to  give  pub- 
licity to  tenets,  so  pernicious,  so  destructive }  thus,  in  the 
name  of  God,  doing  the  work  of  the  Devil.*  At  this 
period,  I  should  have  considered  myself  highly  favored, 
to  have  been  made  an  instrument,  in  the  hand  of  God, 
for  taking  the  life  of  a  man  whom  I  had  never  heard,  nor 
even  seen;  and,  in  destroying  him,  I  should  have  nothing 
doubted,  that  I  had  rendered  essential  service,  both  to 
the  Creator  and  the  created.     I  did  not  then  know,  how 

^  In  this  description  of  his  feelings,  the  author  has  left  on  record 
that  which  ought  to  serve  as  a  mild  reproof  to  those  who  are  prone  to 
condemn,  unheard,  both  the  doctrine  aud  advocates  of  Universalism. 
It  should  have  the  effect  to  lead  all  ingenious  inquirers  to  examine, 
with  great  care,  and  much  faithfulness,  their  own  hearts,  to  see  '  what 
manner  of  spirit  they  are  of  j 'and  should  this  be  done,  it  would  be 
ascertained,  that  opposition  to  the  doctrine  of  impartial  grace,  arises 
not  so  much  from  the  discovery  of  any  thing  bad  in  the  sentiment  it- 
self, as  from  that  pride  and  haughtiness,  which,  alas  I  are  quite  too 
prevalent  in  the  world. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  87 

much  I  was  leav  )ned  with  the  leaven  of  the  Pharises; 
ajid  that,  notwithstanding  my  assurance  of  having  passed 
from  death  mito  life,  in  consequence  of  loving  the  breth- 
ren, this  boasted  love  extended  to  none,  but  those  of  my 
own  persuasion.*  I  always  returned  from  the  tabernacle, 
with  my  heart  filled  with  religious  zeal.  The  intermis- 
sion of  public  worship  was  always  appropriated  to  pri- 
vate devotion;  in  a  word,  all  my  devotional  habits  were 
restored,  and  my  Sundays  were  an  exact  transcript  of 
those,  which  I  had  passed  in  the  family  of  my  father. 
The  Sundays,  upon  which  I  took  my  seat  at  the  commu- 
nion table,  in  the  chapel,  were  more  abundantly  fatigue- 
ing.,  The  chapel  was  some  miles  from  my  lodgijigs;  but 
i  never  absented  myself,  either  summer  or  winter,  and  I 
greatly  exulted  when  I  was  the  lirst,  who  appeared  Avith- 
in  its  consecrated  walls.  The  more  I  suffered  in  reach- 
ing this  place,  the  more  I  enjoyed  when  there;  and  often, 
while  passing  the  streets  of  London,  in  the  midst  of  rain 
or  snow,  my  heart  has  swelled  with  transport,,  in  the 
thought,  that  I  was  going  to  Heaven  by  means  of  these 
difficulties,  and  trials;  while  the  many,  who  were  then 
sleeping,  were  suspended  over  the  pit  of  destruction,  into 
which  they  must  one  day  fall,  to  rise  again  no  more  for- 
ever. And  why.  Oh !  why,  I  used  to  repeat,  am  I  snatch- 
ed, as  a  brand  from  the  burning;  why  am  I,  an  offender 
against  light,  against  precept,  and  example,  made  a  bless- 
ed heir  of  Heaven,  while  far  the  greater  part  of  my 
species  are  consigned  to  endless  misery.''  There  were  a 
number  of  young  people,  of  both  sexes,  who,  having  as- 
sembled from  a  great  distance,  could  not  return  home 
after  service,  in  season  for  breakfast..  One  of  the  society 
kept  a  house  near  the  chapel,  where  individuals  thus  cir- 
cumstanced were  accommodated.  There  we  often  col- 
lected, and  our  opportunities  were  delightful..  Being  re- 
markable for  a  humble  demeanor,  I  was,  on  this  account, 
much  noticed  and  caressed;  and  I  rarely  quitted  the  as- 
sembly without  a  heart  overflowing  with  love,  and  grati- 
tude, toward  God,  and  His  dear  children..  I  was  not 
confined  to  any  particular  place  of  worship;  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  present  myself,  at  the  stated  times,  in  various 
congregations;  wherever  I  heard  of  a  great  man,  I  made 

*  To  the  discredit  of  Christianity,  its  professors  are,  as  our  author 
was  before  his  conversion,  by  far  too  much  disposed  to  confine  their 
love  to  the  few  with  whom  they  associate.  This  spirit  of  the  Pharisee, 
cannot  be  too  strongly  disapprobatedj  for  it  stands  direct  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  genius  and  spirit  of  that  gospel  which  comprises  a  full  ex- 
pression of  the  love  of  God  for  all  mankind.  Ed. 
8* 


8S  LIFE    OF    REV^   JOHN    MURRAY. 

a  point  of  attending  upon  his  labors.     Among  the  many 
places  of  public  worship,  to  which  I  resorted,  there  was  a 
Baptist  meeting,   where     I   obtained  great  satisfaction. 
The  minister  was  a  warm,  animated  preacher,  and  the 
people  uncommonly  serious.     To  this  house  many  of  the 
tabernacle  adherents  resorted;  for,  at  this  time,  there  was 
no  service  at  that  place,  except  in  the  morning,  and  eve- 
ning.    In  a  vestrj^,  attached  to  the  Baptist  meeting,  many 
of  the  congregation  met,  before  the  commencement  of 
divine  service  and  some  of  them  alternately  sang  and 
prayed.      By  those  persons,  I  was  received  with  great 
kindness;  this  affected  me  exceedingly;  and  perceiving 
that  it  did,  they  loved  me  yet  more  for  the  value  I  evi- 
dently set  upon  their  affection,  till  at  length,  I  became  an 
object  of  general  attention.     United  plans  were  laid  to 
draw  me  out,  and  I  had  pressing  invitations  to  their  re- 
ligious societies,  and  afterwards  to  their  houses.     The^ 
minister  distinguished  me;  solicited  me  to  visit  him;  and 
delighted  to  speak  peace  to  me,  both  publicly,  and  private- 
ly.    I  was  entreated  to  pray  in  the  society,  which,  as  a 
timid,   and   unpatronized    stranger,   I    had  so    recently 
entered!     I    complied,    and    every    one  seemed  affect- 
ed;   I  myself  was  greatly    moved,  deeply  penetrated 
by  reflection,  upon  what  I  had  been,  and  what  1  then  was^ 
and  my  soul  was  transported  by  the  consideration,  that  I 
was  re-admitted  into  the  society  of  the  people  of  God. 
My  presence  was  now  anxiously  expected  in  the  congre- 
gation, and  at  the  houses  of  many  individuals;  I  was 
marked  by  those,  who  attended  at  the  tabernacle,  and 
many  other  places  of  worship;  and  I  was  so  much  caress- 
ed, by  serious  people  of  sundry  persuasions,  that  when  I 
have  been  asked,  what  denomination  I  was  of,  I  have  re- 
plied, an  independent   Baptist,  Methodist,  Churchman. 
I  hardly  knew  which  of  those  I  liked  best,  or  loved  most; 
and  Mr.  Whitefield,  upon  whom  they  all  occasionally  at- 
tended, strove,  both  by  precept  and  example,  to  convince 
us,  that  a  difference,  respecting  non-essentials,  was  utter- 
ly inconsistent  with  the  Christian  character. 

Among  the  many,  who  extended  to  me  the  hand  of 
amity,  was  a  merchant,  who  never  appeared  so  happy, 
as  when  conversing  with  me;  he  received  me  into  his 
house,  and  employed  me  in  his  counting  room;  here  I 
fancied  my  circumstances  improved,  but  I  was  deceived. 
This  gentleman  was  a  mere  superficial  professor  of  relig- 
ion, which,  when  I  discovered,  I  determined  to  return  to 
my  former  situation.  I  had  paid  all  my  debts;  I  was 
easy,    and  occasionally  happy,    and   I  allowed  myself 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY..  89 

many  little  indulgencies,  whichj  while  a  debtor,  I  should 
have  believed  criminal. 

The  leaving  my  new^  patron  gave  me,  hoM^ever,  some 
pain,;  he  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  me,  although  1  could 
not  reciprocate  M*  esteem..  He  was  ambitious  of  obtain- 
ing a  name  in  the  Church,  and,  for  this  purpose,  iie  con- 
templated the  observance  of  morning  and  evening  prayer 
in  his  family;  but,  not  being  an  early  riser,  he  was  at  a 
loss  to  know  how  to  reconcile  his  devotions  with  his 
business.  At  last  he  said:  '  You,,  my  friend,,  are  accus- 
tomed to  perform  the  honors  of  my  table.  If  you  prolong 
your  grace  at  breakfast,  it  will  answer  for  morning  pray- 
er!' Greatly  shocked,  and  completely  disgusted  my  de- 
terminatioii  to  quit  him  was  confirmed.  I  was  still  very 
communicative,  and,  consequently,  the  reason  of  my 
departure  was^  generally  known.;  so  that  my  once  warm 
friend  was,  as  may  be  supposed,  converted  into  a  bitter 
enemy.  I  was,  however,  rather  commended  than  censur- 
ed, while  the  conduct  of  the  man  of  business  excited 
general  contempt.  This  gratified  me!  alas,  the  piety  of 
this  world  is  based  on  pride !  I  now  became  as  far  as  I 
was  known,  an  object  of  attention  in  every  place,  where 
vital  religion,,  as  it  was  phrased,  obtained  its  votaries. 
Mr.  Romasne,  M.  Jones,  and  many  other  clergymen, 
distinguished  me.  Hints  were  thrown  out  respecting  my 
once  more  coming  forward  as  a  public  teacher;  but 
against  this  I  was  determined.  I  was  astonished,  that  I 
had  ever  dared  to  venture  upon  so  responsible  an  assump- 
tion !  As  the  eternal  well  being  of  the  many  was  supposed 
to  rest  with  the  preacher,  an  error  in  judgment  would 
f.onsequently  be  fatal  to  his  hearers;  and,  as  I  had  now 
learned  that  Iwas  not  perfect  in  knowledge,  I  could  not 
be  assured,  I  shoujd  not  lead  the  people  astray;  in  which 
tremendous  event  the)'^  would,  to  all  eternity,  be  imprecat- 
ing curses  on  my  head.  Considerations  of  such  magni- 
tude were  sufficient  to  seal  my  lips;  but  I  was  characteic- 
ized  as  a  pattern  of  piety,  and  my  experiences  were 
greedily  sought,  by  individuals  of  various  denominations. 
There  was  a  society,  belonging  to  a  Baptist  meeting, 
near  Good  Man's  fields,  which  met  statedly  at  each  other's 
houses  once  every  week;  this  was  the  society,  in  which  I 
was  most  admired,  and  to  which,  of  course,  1  was  the 
most  attached.  In  this  society  there  were  individuals, 
who,  like  myself,  were  tabernacle  worshippers,  but 
who  attended  this  meeting,  when  there  was  no  service 
there.  I  had  surrendered  up  my  whole  soul  to  those 
religious     exercises,    which     the    several    societies^   to 


90  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

which  I  had  attached  myself,  demanded.  My  plan  was 
to  devote  myself  wholly  to  my  God,  to  the  advancement 
of  my  spiritual  interest,  to  considerations  pertaining  to 
the  kingdom  of  heaven..  Wedded  life^  a  family,  these 
made  no  part  of  my  plan;  I  was  persuaded,,!  should  pass 
my  life  in  celibacy;  and,  had  monastic  seclusion  consisted 
with  Protestantism,  I  should  gladly  have  embraced  its 
retirement,  with  its  duties.  In  the  society,  collected  near 
Good  Man's  fields,  there  was  a  young  gentleman  remark- 
able for  the  sanctity  of  his  manners;  we  were  strongly, 
and  mutually  attached  to  each  other.  Many,  very  many 
happy  hours  did  we  pass  together.  During  the  winter, 
we  were  constantly  at  the  tabernacle  before  day.  We 
narrated  to  each  other  our  experiences;  we  prayed,  we 
wept,  we  joyed,,  and  sorrowed  together;  and,  with  un- 
feigned affection,  we  loved  one  another.  I  questioned 
him  respectmg  his  connexions,  when  he  informed  me, 
that  his  parents  had  died  in  his  infancy;  that  he  had  been 
brought  up  by  his  grandfather,  who  was  a  very  profligate 
old  gentleman,  and  abhorred  the  very  name  of  Whitefield! 
But,  he  added,  that,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  he  was 
not  entirely  alone.  He  had  a  sister  with  him  in  the 
family,  reared  also  by  his  grand  parent,  who  was  a  good, 
and  gracious  girl;  that  their  nights  were  frequently  de- 
voted to  prayer;  Wt  that  they  dared  not  let  their  grand- 
father know  they  had  ever  been  seen  at  the  tabernacle, 
or  in  any  of  those  societies,  from  which  they  derived  their 
chief  happiness.  Indeed,  he  observed,  his  sister  seldom 
ventured  out;  but  he  had  made  such  representations  of 
me,  that  she  had  desired  him  to  let  her  know,  when  I 
should  again  meet  the  Baptist  society,  and  she  would 
make  a  point  of  being  there;  and,  I  request  you,  said  he, 
my  dear  sir,  to  be  at  the  society  next  Sunday  evening, 
and  she  will  most  unquestionably  be  there.  I  cannot  say, 
I  had  any  curiosity  respecting  this  young  lady;  but  Sun- 
day night  came,  I  was  expected,  and  the  great  room  was 
filled  previous  to  my  arrival.  I  entered,  every  one  rose 
at  my  entrance,  and  I  felt  dignifiedly  pious,  seriously 
happy.  My  young  friend  approached,  and  told  me,  in  a 
whisper,  his  sister  would  have  been  greatly  disappointed, 
had  any  thing  detained  me  that  evening..  On  my  entrance 
I  had  glanced  at  a  young  lady,  extremely  beautiful,  who 
appeared  attired  by  the  hand  of  elegance;  it  was  with 
difficulty  I  could  take  my  eyes  from  her !  I  was  confound- 
ed, I  changed  my  seat,  that  I  might  not  behold  her,  and, 
when  thus  addressed  by  Mr.  Neale,  I  responded  by  askin«? 
where  his  sister  was  seated,,  when  he   pointed  to  the 


LIFE    OF    RET.    JOHN    MURRAY.  91 

fascinating  figure,  who  had  so  imposingly  attracted  my 
attention.      'That  young  lady,  sir,  is  Miss  Neale — my 
sister;  she  has  long  wished  for  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
you;  I  am  happy  that  she  is  now  gratified.'     An  intro- 
duction was  in  course;  I  had  much  to  say  through  the 
evening,  and  my  friend  declared  I  had  never  spoken  bet- 
ter.    1  addressed  the  throne  of  grace;  my  own  heart  was 
softened,  and  the  hearts  of  my  audience  were  softened 
also.     I  returned  home,  but  the  beauteous  image  of  the 
sister  of  my  friend  accompanied  me !     I  could  not  for  a 
moment  exclude  the  lovely  intruder  from  my  imagination. 
I  was  alarmed;  I  wept,  I  prayed,  but  every  effort  was 
fruitless;  the  more  I  strove  to  forget  her,  the  more  she 
was  remembered.     I  was  impatient  to  behold  her  again, 
yet  I  most  devoutly  wished  we  had  never  met.     I  was 
convinced  my  peace,  my  happiness  were  forever  fled! 
This  was  truly  astonishing;  I  had  recently  been  so  pos- 
itive, that  the  combined  sex  did  not  possess  the  power  to 
engage  my  attention  for  a  single  moment.     Some  time 
elapsed,  during  which  the  captivating  engrosser  of  my 
heart  never  relinquished,  no,  not  for  a  single  instant,  that 
entire  possession,  which  she  had  taken  of  my  imagina- 
tion; when,  after  an  evening  lecture,  while  the  congrega- 
tion were  quitting  the  meeting-house,  a  lady,  who  kept  a 
boarding-school  for  young  ladies,  requested  I  would  pass 
the  next  evening  at  her  house,  as  her  young  people  were 
to  collect  their  friends,  and  she  wished  some  one  to  intro- 
duce   religious    conversation.     I   had  no    inclination    to 
accept  this  invitation,  and  I  accordingly  made  my  excuses^ 
but  the  good  lady  continued  to  press  me,  and  added,  I 
expect  Miss  Neale  will  be  of  the  party.     Of  this  impos- 
ing article  of  intelligence,  I  experienced  the  full  force; 
but   I    endeavored    to  disguise  my  emotions;  and,  the 
request  being  once  more  repeated,  I  consented,  and  re- 
turned home,  notwithstanding  all  my  resolutions,  trans- 
ported with  the  prospect  of  once  more  beholding  the  dear 
object  of  my  admiration.     That  I  was  now  become  a  real 
lover,  there  could  be  no  doubt.     I  was  early  at  the  place 
appointed,  and  my  enraptured  heart  danced  with  joy, 
when  I  once  more  beheld  the  triumphant  fair  one;  I  was 
happy  to  observe,  that  she  regarded  me  with  marked 
attention,  but  her  predilection  was  rather  for  the  Christian, 
than    the   man.       I   was,   however,  beyond   expression 
elated,  and  my  conversation  partook  of  the  elevation  of 
my  soul.     The  evening  was  nothing;  it  was  gone,  ere  I 
was  sensible  it  had  well  commenced.    Eliza,  for  that 
was  her  fascinating  name,  arose  to  take  leave;  I  was 


92  LIFE    01-'    KEV.    JOHX    MURRAY. 

greatly  chagrined,  I  had  calculated  upon  attending  her 
home:  but  a  confidential  friend  had  been,  sent  to  take 
charge  of  her.  1  ventured,  however,  to  express  a  hope, 
that  I  should  see  her  at  Mrs.  Allen's,  a  friend,  warmly 
attached  to  us  both,  on  the  following  Wednesday  evening. 
She  modestly  replied,  she  would  endeavor  to  be  there; 
and  in  the  interim,  1  sought  to  learn  if  she  were  disen- 
gaged, but  I  could  obtain  no  satisfactory  information.. 
The  appointed  evening  was  passed  most  delightfully,  at 
Mrs.  Allen's;  I  had  the  felicity  of  attending  the  young 
lady  home,  and  the  temerity  to  ask  such  questions,  as 
extorted  an  acknowledgment,  that  she  was  not  engaged. 
With  trembling  eagerness,  I  then  ventured  to  propose 
myself  as  a  candidate  for  her  favor.  *  Alas !  sir,'  she 
replied,  '  you  have  formed  too  high  an  opinion  of  my 
character;  I  trust  you  will  meet  a  person  much  more 
deserving  of  you„  than  I  can  pretend  to  be.'  I  re-urged 
my  suit,  with  all  the  fervor,  which  youth,  and  an  irre- 
pressible passion  could  furnish.  Her  ansv/er  is  indelibly 
engraved  upon  the  tablets  of  my  memory.  '  You,  and  I, 
sir,  profess  to  believe  in  an  overruling  Providence,  we 
have  both  access  to  the  tlirone  of  our  heavenly  Father. 
Let  us,  sir,  unbosom  ourselves  to  our  God;  I  shall,  I  do 
assure  you;  so,  I  am  persuaded,  will  you;  and  if,  after 
we  have  thus  done,  we  obtain  the  sanction  of  the  Most 
High,  I  trust  I  shall  be  resigned.'  We  had  now  reached 
her  habitation,  the  threshold  of  which,  no  professed  fol- 
lower of  Wliitefield  was  ever  allowed  to  pass.  I  suppli- 
cated for  permission  to  write  to  her,  and  in  the  full  confi- 
dence of  christian  amity,  she  acceded  to  the  prayer  of  my 
petition.  From  this  period,  no  week  passed,  during 
which  we  did  nat  exchange  letters,  ami  the  pages,  we 
filled,  might  have  been  submitted  to  the  most  rigid  inspec- 
tion. Mrs.  Alten  was  our  confidant,  and  every  letter, 
which  passed  between  us,  was  put  into  thie  hiind  of  this 
discreet  matron,  ivithout  a  seal.  At  the  house  of  this 
lady  we  had  frequent  interviews,  but  never  without 
v/itnesses,  and  our  time  was  passed  in  singing  hymns, 
and  in  devout  prayer.  I  now  believed  myself  the  happiest 
being  in  creation;  I  was  certain  of  possessing  a  most 
inestimable  treasure;  and  although  the  grandfather  of  my 
Eliza,  upon  whom  rested  her  whole  dependence,  never 
saw  ine;  and,  if  he  had,  never  would  have  sanctioned 
our  union,  we  cherished  that  hope,  which  so  generally 
proves  fallacious.  The  dear  girl  requested  me  to  seek, 
and  obtain  the  explicit  approbation  of  her  brother,  that 
she  might  at  least  insure  his  countenance;  and  upon  my 


LrlFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  93 

application  to  him,  he  unhesitatihgly  replied :  '  I  consider, 
dear  sir,  rny  sister  as  highly  honored  by  your  proposals.* 
But,  sir,  have  we  your  consent?  '  Undoubtedly,  sir,  and 
with  my  whole  heart.'  This  was  sufficient,  and  I  was 
completely  happy.  But,  Alas !  '  never  did  the  course  of 
true  love  run  smooth.'  We  were  on  the  verge  of  a  most 
distressing  calamity :  this  brother,  in  whom  we  had  repos- 
ed unlimited  confidence,  became  my  inveterate  foe^  and 
writing  an  anonymous  letter  to  his  grandfather,  be  repre- 
sented me  as  a  fortune-hunter,  who  was  seeking"  to  obtain 
the  heart  of  his  grand-daughter,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  prey  of  her  property!  This  letter  produced 
the  desired  effect;  the  old  gentleman  was  extremely 
.  irritated,  and,  sending  for  Eliza,  he  put  the  letter  into 
her  hand,  and  sternly  asked  her  if  she  had  entered  into 
any  engagement  with  a  person  by  the  name  of  Murray  ? 
when,  receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  he  gave 
full  credit  to  all  the  rest,  and  being  a  man  of  violent 
passions,  he  threatened  her  with  the  loss  of  his  favor,  if 
she  did  not  immediately  promise  to  renounce  me  forever. 
He  was  well  apprized,  if  he  could  obtain  her  promise,  he 
had  nothing  further  to  apprehend.  The  firm,  self-collect- 
ed girl,  implored  his  pardon,  if  she  did  not  yield  credence 
to  the  slanders,  contained  in  the  despicable  scrawl  he  had 
placed  in  her  hand;  she  besought  him  to  see  me,  to  con- 
verse with  me;  promising,  that  if,  upon  a  personal 
acquaintance,  he  continued  to  disapprove,  she  would 
endeavor  to  bend  her  mind  to  an  acquiescence  with  his 
will.  Her  grandfather  was  inexorable;  he  would  admit 
no  conditions;  and  ultimately  assured  the  young  lady,  if 
she  did  not  relinquish  every  thought  of  me,  she  might 
give  up  all  idea  of  ever  receiving  a  single  penny  of  his 
property.  He  granted  her  three  days  for  deliberation, 
during  which  period,  she  was  to  consider  herself  a  prison- 
er. Of  this  unexpected  event,  I  speedily  gained  intelli- 
fence,  and  my  soul  was  torn  by  apprehension.  To  Eliza 
could  have  no  access,  and  even  the  intercourse,  by  letter, 
was  suspended!  In  this  state  of  agonizing  suspense,  I 
remained,  until,  through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
chambermaid,  a  letter  was  brought  to  Mrs.  Allen  for  me, 
which  letter,  while  it  gave  a  most  affecting  detail  of  her 
suflferings,  contained  the  fullest  assurance  of  her  unbroken 
faith,  and  steadfastness.  She  recommended  it  to  me,  to 
apply  to  the  same  Source,  from  whence  she  herself  had 
derived  consolation;  to  the  Almighty  Father  of  our  spirits, 
who  held  in  His  hands  all  hearts;  and,  she  added,  that 
no  power,  short  of  Omnipotence,  should  ever  prevail 


94  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Hpon  her  to  give  her  hand  unaccompanied  by  her  heartj; 
and  that,  in  a  few  hours,  she  should  be  so  circumstanced 
as  to  prove  the  sincerity  of  my  affection,  for  she  was 
speedily  to  render  her  final  answer  to  her  grandfather.. 
She  hoped  for  divine  support,  during  the  arduous  trial,,  ta 
which  she  was  called  to  submit;  and  she  most  earnestly 
solicited  my  prayers  in  her  behalf.  A  second  letter  was 
soon  handed  me,,  giving  an  account  of  the  second  inter- 
view. '  Well,  my  dear  child,  said  the  old  gentleman,, 
'^what  am  1  to  expect?  am  I  to  lose  my  daughter,  the 
comfort  of  n)y  declining  life?  Or  will  you  have  compas- 
sion upon  my  old  age,  and  relinquish  this  interested, 
designing  man?'  '•If,  my  dear  sir  1  had.  any  reasons  for 
supposing  the  person,  of  whom  you  speak,  such  as  you 
believe  him,  the  relinquishment,  which  you  require,, 
would  not  cost  an  effort;  but,  sir,  Mr.  Murray  is  an. 
honest  man,  he  has  a  sincare  affection  for  me,  I  have 
given  him  reason  to  hope,  and  until  I  am  convinced  he. is 
unworthy  of  my  esteem^  I  cannot  consent  to  treat  him  as 
if  he  were.'  Here  the  passions  of  the  old  gentleman 
began  to  rise,  when  the  dear  girl  besought  him  to  be  calm,^ 
assuring  him  it  was  neither  her  wish,  nor  intention  to 
leave  him;  nay  more,  she  would  pledge  her  word  never 
to  leave  him,  while  she  could  have  the  felicity  of  attend- 
ing upon  him,  if  he  would  not  insist  upon  her  violating 
hex  faith,  tacitly  given  to  me.  But  this  would  not  do; 
she  must  abandon  her  lover  or  her  fortune;  and  finding 
her  determined,  he  arose  from  his  chair,  and  seizing  his, 
will,  in  which  he  had  bequeathed  her  one  thousand 
pounds  sterling,  he  furiously  flung  it  into  the  flames, 
immediately  causing  another  will  to  be  written,  in  which 
he  gave  to  her  brother,  the  portion  designed  for  her;  and 
thus  did  this  young  incendiary  obtain  the  object,  for 
which  he  had  labored,  and  to  which  he  had  most  nefari- 
ously, and  darkly,  groped  his  way.  I  had  now  the 
felicity  of  learning,  that  my  Eliza  had  a  stronger  value 
for  me,  than  for  her  patrimony;  and  she  observed  to  her 
grandfather,  that  he  had  furnished  her  with  an  opportu- 
ity  of  proving  the  sincerity  of  my  attachment.  '  If,'  said 
she,  '  his  views  are  such,  as  you  have  been  taught  to- 
believe,  he  will  shortly  relinquish  me,  and  thus  have  I,, 
most  opportunely,  obtained  a  criterion.'  Never  did  t 
receive  a  piece  of  intelligence  productive  of  so  muchi 
heart-pfelt  pleasure,  as  the  certainty  of  that  potent  pre- 
possession, which  could  thus  enable  her,  whom  I  esteem- 
ed the  most  perfect  of  human  beings,  to  surrender  up, 
without  a  sigh,  the  gifts  of  fortune.     Words  cannot  de- 


lylFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MXrR:RAy-.  9» 

lineate,  how  greatly  I  conceived  myself  enriched,  by  this 
blissful  assurance.  Still  I  met  the  brother  of  Eliza,  at 
the  tabernacle,  and  occasionally  at  private  societies,  and 
still  he  wore  the  semblance  of  amity.  Previous  to  this 
event,  the  elder  Mr.  Neale,  who  was  always  my  friend, 
had  become  the  head  of  a  family;  during  a  few  weeks, 
we  continued  in  that  condition  when  my  invidious  calum- 
niator requested  me,  by  a  written  message,  to  give  him  a 
meeting  at  the  house  of  his  aunt,  a  lady  vv^ho  resided  next 
door  to  his  grandfather.  I  obeyed  the  summons,  when, 
to  my  great  astonishment,  he  informed  me,  it  was  his 
sister's  wish,  I  would  think  of  her  no  more;  that  there 
were  many  young  ladies,  with  whom  I  might  form  a 
connexion,  abundantly  more  advantageous;  and  that  for 
herself,  she  was  weary  of  contending  with  her  grandfather. 
During  the  whole  of  this  studied  harangue,  the  torture  of 
my  soul  was  scarcely  to  be  endured.  After  a  most  dis- 
tressing pause,  I  tremblingly  interrogated:  Tell  me,  sir, 
has  Miss  Neale  really  empowered  you  to  act  in  her 
behalf?  *  If  you  doubt  it,  here  is  a  letter,  written,  with 
her  own  hand,  furnished  me  upon  a  presumption,  that  I 
might  not  obtain  a  speedy  opportunity  of  seeing  you;' 
and  he  put  the  letter  into  my  hand.  Mr.  Neale  knew  not, 
that  I  was  in  possession  of  many  of  his  sister's  letters; 
he  knew  not,  that  she  had  ever  written  to  me;  if  he  had, 
he  would  hardly  have  exhibited  this  scrawl,  as  hers. 
The  anguish  of  my  soul  was  no  more;  yet  I  assayed  to 
conceal  my  emotions,  and  contented  myself  with  solemnly 
declaring,  that  it  was  only  from  the  lips  of  Miss  Neale  I 
would  accept  my  dismission.  '  You  may,'  said  he,  'rest 
assured,  you  will  never,  with  her  own  consent,  again  see 
that  young  lady.'  Thus  spake,  thus  acted  the  man, 
whom,  the  very  next  morning,  I  met  at  Mr.  Whitefield's 
communion.  Leaving  Mr.  Neale,  I  returned  to  my 
lodgings,  sat  down  and  related  to  Eliza  the  whole  busi- 
ness, enclosing  the  letter  I  had  received  as  hers.  The 
ensuing  day  gave  me  an  assurance,  under  her  own  hand, 
that  the  whole  procedure  was  unknown  to  her;  request- 
ing, that  I  would  remain  perfectly  easy;  that  I  would 
keep  my  mind  entirely  to  myself,  making  application 
only  to  the  wonderful  Counsellor,  and  resting  in  full 
assurance  of  her  fidelity.  This  was  enough,  and  my  full 
soul  rejoiced  in  the  consolation,  thus  seasonably  afforded 
me.  Mr.  Neale,  supposing  his  arts  had  succeeded, 
brought  forward  proposals  in  favor  of  a  gentleman,  edu- 
cated by  his  grandfather,  who  had  long  loved  my  Eliza; 
but  who,  fearful  of  a  rejection,  had  not  disclosed  his 


96  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MUHRAY. 

passion.    CJommon    fame    soon  wafted    to  my  ear  the 
report  of  these  new  pretension sj  the  gentleman  was,  in 
every  respect,  my  superior^  and  he  was  declared  a  suc- 
cessful rival.     I  met  the  object  of  my  soul's  affection  at 
Mrs.  Allen'sj  I  communicated  the  lacerating  intelligence 
I  had  received;  she  smiled,  tacitly  assured  me  I  had  not 
much  to  apprehend,  and  according  to  custom,  added.  Let 
us  improve  our  opportunity  in  the  best  possible  manner, 
let  us  devote  it  to  prayer,  and  to  praise.     Thus  revolved 
days,  weeks,  and  months;  hoping,  and  fearing,  joying, 
and   sorrowing,   while  my   gentle,  my   amiable   friend, 
painfully  .reciprocated  every  anxiety.     It  was  supposed, 
by  her  connexions,  that  she  had  relinquished  her  purpose 
in  my  favor,  and  a  succession  of  advantageous  proposals 
were  brought  forward,  all  of  which  she  decisively  rejected. 
Once  a  week,  she  was  permitted  to  visit,  when  she  never 
forgot  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Allen.     She  also  allowed  me  to 
attend  her  every  Sunday  morning  before  day  during  the 
winter;  and  I  considered  myself  supremely  happy,  in  the 
privilege  of  presenting  myself  at  her  dwelling,  on  those 
holy  days,  by  four  o'clock,  waiting  her  appearance;  and 
often  have  I  been  eyed  with  suspicion  by  the  watch,  and, 
in  fact,  I  was  once  taken  up.     Neither  storms  nor  tem- 
pests arrested  my  steps;  and  sometimes  I  have  tarried, 
until  the  dawning  day  compelled  me  to  retire,  when  I 
was  obliged  to  pass  on,  in  melancholy  solitude,  to  the 
tabernacle.     Yet,  between  love  and  devotion,  I  was  a 
very  happy,  very  disconsolate  being.     I  richly  enjoyed 
the  pleasures  of  anticipation,  which  are  generally  believed 
to  exceed  possession;  yet  my  own  experience  is  very  far 
from   acknowledging  the  justice  of  this  hypothesis.     I 
continued    in  this  state  more    than  a  year,  snatching 
enjoyments  when   I   could,   and   placing  confidence   in 
futurity.     In  the  course  of  this  year,  my  insidious,  al- 
though  still   professing   friend,  married  a  lady  of  some 
property — ^tw«  thousand  pounds  sterling;  his  grandfather 
adding,  two  thousand  more,  one  of  which  he  had  designed 
as   provision  for  his   grand-daughter^  arwl,  strange  as  it 
may  appear,  this  angel  girl  uttered  not,  upon  this  occasion, 
a  single  reproach!     The  new  alliance  strengthened  the 
family  interest  against  me;    the  lady,  without  knowing 
me,  was  my  inveterate  foe.     It  was  about  this  time  dis- 
covered, that  the  attachment  of  Eliza  remained  in  full 
force.      Her   grandfather  imagined,   that  we   cherished 
hope  of  a  change  in  his  sentiments,  or  that  we  should 
ultimately,  at  least  in  the  event  of  his  death,  come  into 
possession  of  some  part  of  his  property;  and,  that  he 


LIFE    OF    llEV.    JOHK    MURRAY.  97 

might  effectually  crush  every  expectation,  he  so  managed, 
as  to  put  his  most  valuable  possessions  out  of  his  ovv^n  pow- 
er. The  period  at  length  arrived,  which  completed  the 
minority  of  my  tender  friend;  it  was  upon  the  eighteenth 
day  of  May,  and  this  day,  the  elder  Mr.  Neale,  who,  as 
has  been  observed,  had  still  continued  my  fast  friend, 
determined  to  render  a  gala,  by  passing  it  with  me  in  the 
country.  With  the  early  dawn  we  commenced  our  little 
excursion,  when  we  beheld,  at  a  distance,  a  young  lady 
with  a  small  parcel  in  her  hand;  we  approached  her, 
and,  to  our  great  astonishment,  recognised,  in  this  young 
lady,  the  sister  of  my  friend,  the  precious  object  of  my 
most  ardent  love.  Upon  that  memorable  morning  she 
had  quitted  the  house  of  her  grandfather,  and  all  she 
possessed,  that  had  been  his,  leaving  upon  her  writing 
desk  a  letter,  which  lay  there,  until  the  family,  alarmed 
at  her  not  making  her  appearance  at  the  breakfast  table, 
entered  her  apartment,  whence  the  lovely  sufferer  h^  so 
recently  flown.  The  letter  furnished  an  explanation; 
it  was  addressed  to  her  grandfather,  and  it  informed  him, 
that  the  writer  would  ever  acknowledge  unreturnable 
obligations,  for  the  many  favors  he  had  conferred  upon 
her;  that,  if  she  could  have  been  -  indulged  with  her  Avish 
of  living  with  him,  she  should  have  been  content;  but, 
as  the  solicitations  to  enter  into  matrimonial  engagements, 
by  which  she  was  persecuted,  were  unceasing,  she  was 
convinced  she  should  not  be  allowed  to  give  this  testi- 
mony of  her  filial  attachment;  and  being  now  of  age,  she 
begged  leave  to  deliver  up  the  keys,  the  sums  of  money, 
with  which  she  had  been  entrusted,  and  whatever  else 
had  pertained  to  her  grandfather;  adding  an  assurance, 
that  she  should  no  more  return.  Her  brother  William 
immediately  conducted  her  to  his  house,  whither  I  attended 
them,  and  where,  by  her  positive  orders,  we  were  oblig- 
ed to  leave  her.  Agreeably  to  her  request,  we  proceeded 
on  our  proposed  walk,  and  we  learned  on  our  return, 
that  repeated  messengers  had  been  dispatched  by  her 
grandfather,  soliciting  her  again  to  become  an  inmate  in 
his  house,  and  that  the  lady  of  her  youngest  brother  had 
been  commissioned  for"  this  purpose;  but  that  every 
entreaty  had  proved  ineffectual.  For  me,  fondly  flatter- 
ing myself,  that  1  should  immediately  exchange  my  vows 
with  my  amiable,  my  affianced  friend,  at  the  altar  of  our 
God,  I  was  superlatively  happy;  but  again  my  high- 
wrought  expectations  proved  fallacious.  This  strong- 
minded  woman  was  a  votary  of  propriety,  and  she  was 
determined  it  should  not  appear,  that  she  had  quitted  a 
9* 


98  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRA.y. 

parent,  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  herself  into  the  arm» 
of  a  husband.  She  had  bid  adieu  to  the  paternal  roof, 
because  she  could  not,  while  there,  be  allowed  the  exer- 
cise of  her  own  judgment  j  because  measures  were  taking 
to  compel  her  to  marry  a  man,  she  could  never  approve. 
Her  eldest  brother,  her  beloved  William,  she  was  confi- 
dent would  patronize,  and  protect  her;  and  her  needle 
was  a  resource,  from  which  she  could  always  derive  a 
competency. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Author  becomes  a  happy  husband,  a  happy  fa- 
JfAe^P,  He  embraces  '  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,'  and 
frd^thi^,  and  other  combining  causes,  he  is  involved  in 
great  difficulties.  Death  deprives  him  of  his  wedded 
friend,  and  of  his  infant  son,  and  he  is  overtaken  by  a  se- 
ries of  calamities. 

Hail !  wedded  love  !  connubial  friendship,  hail  I 
Based  on  esteem, — if  love  supplies  the  gale, 
Borne  on  life's  stream  we  cut  our  beamy  way, 
On  smooth  seas  wafted  to  the  realms;  of  day. 

After  six  tedious  months,  from  the  morning  of  my  Eliza's 
departure  from  the  mansion  of  her  grandfather,  had  com- 
pleted their  tardy  round,  yielding  to  my  unremitted  im- 
portunities she  consented  to  accompany  me  to  the  altar. 
We  were  attended  by  William,  and  his  lady,  with  our 
dear  Mrs.  Allen;  and  I  received,  from  the  hands  of  our 
very  dear  brother,  an  inestimable  treasure,  which  consti- 
tuted me  in  my  own  estimation,  the  happiest  of  human 
beings.  As  I  had  no  house  prepared,  I  gratefully  accept- 
ed the  kindness  of  this  beloved  brother,  who  invited  us 
to  tarry  with  him,  until  we  could  accommodate  ourselves; 
and,  if  I  except  one  unhappy  misunderstanding,  which 
took  place  soon  after  our  marriage,  no  wedded  pair  were 
ever  blessed  with  more  unbroken  felicity.  The  disagree- 
ment, to  which  I  advert,  would  not  have  continued  so 
long,  but  for  the  instigations  of  our  brother  William, 
who  insisted  upon  my  supporting  what  he  called  my 
dignity,  which,  as  he  said,  could  only  be  maintained  by 
the  submission  of  my  wife.     The  quarrel,  like  the  quar- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  99 

rels  of  most  married  people,  originated  in  a  mere  trifle; 
but     the    question    was,    who    should    make    the    first 
conciliatory  advances.     For  two  whole  days  we  did  not 
exchange   a   single  word ! !       William   still   imposingly 
urging  me,  never  to  surrender  my  prerogative !    At  length, 
unable  to  endure  such  a  state  of  wretchedness,  I  told 
William,  I  would  not  live  another  hour  in  such  a  situa- 
tion; he  only  ridiculed  me  for  my  folly,  and  bid  me  take 
the  consequence.     I,  however,  entered  the  chamber  of 
my  wife,  and,  extending  my  hand,  most  affectionately  said. 
My  soul's  best  treasure,  let  us  no  longer  continue  this 
atate  of  mournful  estrangement'  for  the  world  I  would 
not  thus  live  another  day.     Why,  my  love,  our  sorrows 
will  arise   from  a  thousand   sources;  let  us  not  render 
each  other  miserable.     The  dear  girl  burst  into  tears, 
iind  throwing  her  faithful  arms  around  me,  sobbed  upon 
my  l)osom,  with  difficulty  articulating,    '  O!  my  precious 
frieiui,  you  have,  as  you  always  will  have,  the  superi- 
ority.    God  for  ever  bless  my  faithful,  my  condescend- 
ing husband.'     From  this  moment  we  bade  adigAi  to  dis- 
.sension   of    every   description,    successfully    cultivating 
that  harmony  of  disposition  and  augmenting  confidence, 
■  which  cannot  fail  of  insuring  domestic  felicity.     We  soon 
removed  to  a  house  of  our  own,  and  there,  as  I  believe, 
enjoyed  as  much  of  happiness,  as  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of 
humanit)^     Yet,  although  thus  satisfied  with  each  other, 
there  were  sources  of  inquietude,  which  created  us  some 
distress.     I   had  heard  much   of  Mr.    ilelly;  he  was  a 
conscientious,  and  zealous  preacher,  in  the  city  of  Lon- 
don.    He  had,  through  many  revolving  years,  continued 
faithful  to  the  ministry  committed  to  him,  and  he  was 
the  theme  of  every  religious   sect.     He  appeared,  as  he 
was  represented  to  me,  tiighly  erroneous;  and  my  indig- 
nation against  him,  as  has  already  been  seen,  was  very 
strong.     I   had  frequently  been   solicited  to   hear  him, 
merely  that  I  might  be  an  ear  witness  of  what  was  term- 
ed his  blasphemies;  but,  1  arrogantly  said,  I  would  not 
be  a  murderer  of  time.     Thus  I  passed  on  for  a  number 
of  years,  hearing  all  manner  of  evil  said  of  Mr.   Relly, 
and  believing  all  I  heqrd,  while  every  day  augmented 
the  inveterate   hatred,  which  I  bore  the   man,  and   his 
adherents.     When  a  worshipping  brother,  or  sister,  be- 
longing to  the  communion,  whifeh  I  considered  as  honor- 
ed by  the  approbation  of  Deity    was,  by  this  deceiver, 
drawn  from  the  paths  of  rectitude,  the  anguish  of  my 
spirit   was  indescribable:  and   I   was  ready  to  say,  the 
secular  arm  ought  to  interpose  to  prevent  the  perdition 


100  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

of  souls.  I  recollect  one  instance  in  particular,  which 
pierced  me  to  the  soul.  A  young  lady,  of  irreproachable  life, 
remarkable  for  piety,  and  highly  respected  by  the  taber- 
nacle congregation  and  church,  of  which  I  was  a  de- 
vout member,  had  been  ensnared;  to  my  great  astonish- 
ment, she  had  been  induced  to  hear,  and  having  heard, 
she  had  embraced  the  pernicious  errors  of  this  detesta- 
ble babbler;  she  was  become  a  believer,  a  firm,  and  un- 
v/avering  believer  of  universal  redemption!  Horrible! 
most  horrible !  So  high  an  opinion  was  entertained  of 
my  talents,  having  myself  been  a  teacher  among  the 
Methodists,  and  such  was  my  standing  in  Mr.  White- 
field's  church,  that  I  was  deemed  adequate  to  reclaiming 
this  wanderer,  and  I  was  strongly  urged  to  the  pursuit. 
The  poor  deluded  young  woman  was  abundantly  wor- 
thy our  .most  arduous  efforts.  He,  that  converteth  the 
sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  shall  save  a  soul  from 
death,  and  shall  hide  a  multitude  of  sins.  Thus  I  thought, 
thus  I  said;  and,  swelled  with  a  high  idea  of  my  own 
importa^ee,  I  went,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  of  my 
Christian  brethren,  to  see,  to  converse  with,  and,  if 
need  were,  to  admonish  this  simple,  weak,  but,  as  wo 
heretofore  believed,  meritorious  female.  Fully  persuad- 
ed, that  I  could  easily  convince  her  of  her  errors,  I  en- 
tertained no  doubt  respecting  the  result  of  my  undertak- 
ing. 'The  young  lady  received  us  with  much  kind- 
ness and  condescension,  while,  as  I  glanced  my  eye 
upon  her  fine  countenance,  beaming  with  intelligence, 
mingling  pity  and  contempt  grew  in  my  bosom.  After 
the  first  ceremonies,  we  sat  for  some  time  silent;  at 
length  I  drew  up  a  heavy  sigh,  and  uttered  a  pathetic 
sentiment,  relative  to  the  deplorable  condition  of  those, 
who  live,  and  die  in  unbelief;  and  I  concluded  a  violent 
declamation,  by  pronouncing,  with  great  earnestness,  He, 
that  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned. 

'  And  pray,  sir,  said  the  young  lady,  with  great  sweet- 
ness, '  Pray,  sir,  what  is  the  unbeliever  damned  for  not 
believing.'" 

What  is  he  damned  for  not  believing.''  Why,  he  is 
damned  for  not  believing. 

'  But,  my  dear  sir,  she  asked  what  was  that,  which  he 
did  not  believe,  for  which  he  was  damned.?' 

Why,  for  not  believing  in  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  sure.  . 

'  Do  you  mean  to  say,  that  unbelievers  are  damned, 
for  not  believing  there  was  such  a  person  as  Jesus 
Christ.?^ 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MUxlRA/.  J 01 

No.  I  do  not;  a  man  may  believe  there  was  such  a  per- 
son, and  yet  be  damned. 

'  Whaf  then,  sir,  must  he  believe,  in  order  to  avoid 
damnation.^' 

Why  he  must  believe  that  Jesus  Chi-ist  is  a  complete 
Saviour. 

'  Well,  suppose  he  were  to  believe,  that  Jesus  Christ 
was  the  complete  Saviour  of  others,  would  this  belief 
save  him?' 

No,  he  must  ])e]ieve,  that  Christ  Jesus  is  his  complete 
Saviour;  every  individual  must  believe  for  himself,  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  his  complete  Saviour. 

*  Why,  sir,  is  Jesus  Christ  the  Suviour  of  any  unbeliev- 
ers'?' 

No,  madam. 

'  Why,  then,  should  any  unbeliever  believe,  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  his  Saviour,  if  he  be  not  his  SaviowV 

I  say  he  is  not  the  Saviour  of  any  one,  until  he  be- 
lieves. 

'  Then,  if  Jesus  be  not  the  Saviour  of  the  unbeliever, 
until  he  believes,  the  unbeliever  is  called  upon  to  believe 
a  lie.  It  appears  to  me,  sir,  that  Jesus  is  the  complete 
SiiYiouY  of  unbelievers;  and  that  unbelievers  are  called 
upon  to  believe  the  truth;  and  that,  by  believing  they  are 
saved,  in  their  own  apprehension,  saved  from  all  those  dread- 
ful fears,  which  are  consequent  upon  a  state  of  conscious? 
condemnation.' 

No,  madam;  you  are  dreadfully,  I  trust  not  fatally, 
misled.  Jesus  never  was,  nor  never  will:  be,  the  Saviour 
of  any  unbeliever. 

*  Do  you  think  Jesus  is  your  Saviour,  sir.-" 
I  hope  he  is. 

*  Were  you  always  a  believer,  sir .'" 
No,  madam. 

'  Then  you  were  once  an  unbeliever;  that  is,  you  once 
believed,  that  Jesus  Christ  was  not  your  Saviour.  Now, 
as  you  say,  he  never  was,  nor  never  will  be,  the  Saviour 
of  any  unbeliever ;  as  you  were  once  an  unbeliever,  he 
never  can  be  your  Saviour.' 

He  never  was  my  Saviour  till  I  believed. 

'  Did  he  never  die  for  you,  till  you  believed,  sir.?* 

Here  I  was  extremely  embarr-assed,  and  most  devoutly 
wished  myself  out  of  her  habitation;  I  sighed  bitterly, 
expressed  deep  commiseration  for  those  souls,  who  had 
nothing  but  head-knowledge  5  drew  out  my  watch,  dis- 


JCf3  LIIE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

covered  it  was  late;  and,  recollecting  an  engagenient,  ob- 
served it  was  time  to  take  leave.* 

1  was  extremely  mortified:  the  j^oung  lady  observed  my 
confusion,  but  was  too  generous  to  pursue  her  triumph. 
I  arose  to  departj  tne  company  arose;  she  urged  us  to 
tarry;  addressed  each  of  us  in  the  language  of  kindness. 
Her  countenance  seemed  to  wear  a  resemblance  of  the 
heaven  which  she  contemplated;  it  was  stamped  by  benig- 
nity; and  when  we  bade  her  adieu,  she  enriched  us  by  her 
good  wishes. 

I  suspected  that  my  religious  brethren  savv'  she  had  the 
advantage  of  me;  and  I  felt,  that  her  remarks  were  in- 
deed unanswerable.  My  pride  was  hurt,  and  I  determin- 
ed to  ascertain  the  exact  sentiments  of  my  associates,  re- 
specting this  interview.  Poor  soul,  said  1,  she  is  far  gone 
in  error.  True,  said  they;  but  she  is,  notwithstanding,  a 
very  sensible  woman.  Ay,  ay,  thought  I,  they  have  as- 
suredly discovered,  that  she  has  proved  too  mighty  for 
me.  Yes,  said  I,  she  has  a  great  deal  of  kead  knowledge; 
but  yet  she  may  be  a  lost,  damned  souk  I  hope  not,  re- 
turned one  of  my  friends;  she  is  a  very  good  young 
woman.  I  saw,  and  it  was  with  extreme  chagrin,  that 
the  result  of  this  visit  had  depreciateil  me  in  the  opinion  of 
my  companions.  But  I  could  only  censure  and  condemn, 
solemnly  observing, — It  was  better  not  to  converse  with 
any  of  those  apostates,  and  it  would  be  judicious  never 
to  associate  with  them  upon  any  occasion.  From  this 
period,  I  myself  carefully  avoided  every  Universalist, 
and  most  cordially  did  I  hale  them.  My  ear  was  open 
to  the  public  calunmiator,  to  the  secret  whisperer,  and  I 
yielded  credence  to  every  scandalous  report,  however, 
improbable.  My  informers  were  f^ood people;  I  had  no 
doubt  of  their  veracity;  and  I  believed  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  paint  Relly,  and  his  connexions,  in  colors  too 
black.  How  severely  has  the  law  of  retaliation  been 
since  exercised  in  the  stabs,  which  have  been  aimed  at 
my  own  reputatioiU  Relly  was  described,  as  a  man  black 
with  crimes:  an  atroci<3us  offender,  both  in  principle  and 
practice.     He  had,  it  was  said,  abused  and  deserted  an 

*More  than  half  a  century  lias  elapsed  since  the  conversation 
here  reln:ted  took  place,  and  there  has  been  nauch  controversy 
upon  the  subject;  yet  it  has  not  come  to  our  knowledge  that  the 
opposers  of  Universalism  have  discovered  any  better  way  of  an- 
swering the  inquiry  of  the  young  convert  than  that  adopted,  at 
.that  time  by  our  author.  What  is  that  truth  the  unbelief  of 
which  makes  God  a  liar?  It  is,  that  he  is  the  Saviour  of  all  man- 
kind. Ed. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY  103 

amiable  wife;  and,  it  was  added,  that  he  retained  in  his 
house  an  abandoned  woman;  and  that  he  not  only  thus 
conducted  himself,  but,  publicly,    and  most  nefariously, 
taught  his  hearers  to  dare  the  laws  of  their  country,  and 
their  God.     Hence,  said  my  informers,  the  dissipated  and 
unprincipledjupf  every  class,  flock  to  his  church;  his  con- 
gregation is  astonishingly  large,  the  carriages  of  the  great 
'block  up  the  street,  in  which  his  meeting-house  stands, 
and  he  is  the  idol  of  the  voluptuous  of  every  description. 
All  this,  and  much  more  was  said,  industriously  propaga- 
ted, and  credited  in  every  religious  circle.     Denomina- 
tions, at  variance  with  each  other,  most  cordially  agreed  in 
thus  thinking,  and  thus  speaking  of  Relly,  of  his  preach- 
ing, and  of  his  practice.     I  confess  I  felt  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  see,  and  hear  this  monster,  once  at  least;  but  the 
risk  was  dreadful !     I  could  not  gather  courage  to  hazard 
the  steadfastness  of  my  faith;  and  for  many  years  I  per- 
severed in  my  resolution,  on  no  consideration  to  contam- 
inate my  ear  by  the  sound  of  his  voice.     At  length,  how 
ever,  I  was  prevailed  upon  to  enter  his  church;  but  I 
detested  the  sight  of  him;  and  my  mind,  prejudiced  by 
the  reports,  to  which  I  had  listened  respecting  him,  was 
too  completely  filled   with   a  recollection   of  his  fancied 
atrocities,  to  permit  a  candid  attention  to  his  subject,  or 
his  mode  of  investigation.     I  wondered  nmch  at  his  im- 
pudence, in  daring  to  speak  in  the  name  of  God;  and  I 
felt  assured,  that  he  was  treasuring  up  unto  himself  wrath 
against  the  day  of  wrath.     I  looked  upon  his  deluded  au- 
dience with  alternate  pity  and  contempt,  and  I  thanked 
God,  that  I  was  not  one  of  them.     I  rejoiced,  when  I  es- 
caped from  the  house,  and,  as  I  passed  home,  I  exclaim- 
ed, almost  audibly:     Why,  O  my  God,  was  I  not  left  in 
this  deplorable,  damnable  state  ?  given  up,  like  this  poor 
unfortunate  people,  to  believe  a  lie,  to  the  utter  perver- 
sion of  my  soul?     But  I  was  thus  furnished  with  another 
proof  of  my  election,  in  consequence  of  my  not  being  de- 
ceived by  this  detestable  deceiver;  and,  of  course,  my 
consolation  was  great. 

About  this  time,  there  was  a  religious  society  establish- 
ed in  Cannon-street,  in  an  independent  meeting-house, 
for  the  purpose  of  elucidating  difficult  passages  of  scrip- 
ture. This  society  chose  for  their  president  a  Mr.  Mason, 
who,  although  not  a  clerical  gentleman,  was  neverthe- 
less, of  high  standing  in  the  religious  world:  frequent  ap- 
plications were  made  to  him,  in  the  character  of  a  physi- 
cian to  the  sinking,  sorrowing,  sin-sick  soul.  His  figure 
was  commanding,  and  well  calculated  to  fill  the  minds  of 


104  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

young  converts  with  religious  awe.  When  this  company 
of  serious  inquh-ers  were  assembled,  the  president  ad- 
dressed the  throne  of  grace,  in  a  solemn  and  appropriate 
prayer,  and  the  subject  for  the  evening  was  next  pro- 
posed. Every  member  of  the  society  was  indulged  with 
the  privilege  of  expressing  his  sentiments,  ibr  the  space 
of  five  minutes;  a  glass  was  upon  the  table,  which  ran 
accurately  the  given  term..  The  president  held  in  his 
hand  a  small  ivory  hammer:  when  the  speaker's  time 
had  expired,  he  had  a  right  to  give  him  notice  by  a  stroke 
on  the  table,  round  which  the  members  were  seated. 
But,  if  he  approved  of  what  was  delivered,  it  was  option- 
al with  him  to  extend  the  limits  of  his  term.  When  the 
question  had  gone  round  the  table,  the  president  summed 
up  the  evidences,  gave  his  own  judgment,  and,  having 
proposed  the  question  for  the  next  evening,  concluded 
with  prayer. 

Upon  this  society  I  was  a  constant  attendant,  and  I 
was  frequently  gratified  by  the  indulgence  of  the  presi- 
dent and  the  implied  approbation  of  the  society.  It  was 
on  the  close  of  one  of  those  evenings,  which  were  to  me 
very  precious  opportunities,  that  the  president  took  me 
by  the  hand,  and  requested  me  to  accompany  him  into 
the  vestry.  '  Sit  down,  my  good  sir:  you  cannot  but  have 
seen,  that  I  have  long  distinguished  you  in  this  society; 
that  I  have  been  pleased  with  your  observations;  and  I 
have  given  indisputable  evidence,  that  both  my  reason 
and  my  judgment,  approved  your  remarks.'  I  bowed 
respectfully,  and  endeavored  to  express  my  gratitude,  in 
a  manner  becoming  an  occasion  so  truly  flattering. 

'  My  object,'  said  he,  'in  seeking  to  engage  you  in  pri- 
vate, is  to  request  you  would  take  home  with  you  a  pam- 
phlet I  have  written  against  Relly's  Union.  I  have  long 
wondered,  that  some  able  servant  of  our  Master  has  not 
taken  up  this  subject.  But,  as  my  superiors  are  silent,  I 
have  been  urged  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  make  a  stand,  and 
I  have  done  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  the  pernicious 
tendency  of  this  soul-destroying  book.' 

Although,  at  this  period,  1  had  never  seen  Relly's 
Union,  yet  my  heart  rejoiced,  that  Mason,  this  great  and 
good  man,  had  undertaken  to  write  against  it,  and,  from 
the  abundance  of  my  hearty  my  mouth  overflowed  with 
thankfulness. 

'  All  that  I  request  of  you,  said  Mr.  Mason,  '  is  to  take 
this  manuscript  home  with  you,  and  keep  it  till  our  next 
meeting.  Meet  me  in  this  vestry,  a  little  before  the  usu- 
al time.     Read  it,  I  entreat  you,  carefully,  and  favor  me 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  105 

with  your  unbiassed  sentiments.'  I  was  elated  by  the 
honor  done  me  and  I  evinced  much  astonishment  at  the 
confidence  reposed  in  me.  But  he  was  pleased  to  ex- 
press a  high  opinion  of  my  judgment,  abilities,  and  good- 
ness of  heart,  and  he  begged  leave  to  avail  himself  of 
those  qualities,  with  which  his  fancy  had  invested  me. 

I  took  the  manuscript  home,  perused  it  carefully,  and 
with  much  pleasure,  until  I  came  to  a  passage  at  which 
I  was  constrained  to  pause,  painfully  to  pause.     Mr.  Rel- 
ly  has  said,  speaking  of  the  record,  which  God  gave  of 
his  Son :    This  life  is  in  his  Son,  and  he,  that  believeth 
not  this  record,  maketh  God  a  liar;  from  whence,  infer- 
red Mr.  Relly,  it  is  plain,  that  God  hath  given  this  eter- 
nal life  in  the  Son  to  unbelievers,  as  fully  as  to  believers, 
else  the  unbeliever  could  not,  by  his  unbelief  make  God  a 
Her.     This,  said  Mr.  Mason,  punning  upon  the  author^s 
name,  is  just  as   clear,  as  that  this  writer  is   an   Irish 
Bishop.     I  was  grieved  to  observe,  that  Mr.  Mason  could 
say  no  more  upon  a  subject  so  momentous;  nor  could  I 
forbear  allowing  more,  than  I  wished  to  allow,  to  the 
reasoning  of  Mr.  Relly.     Most  devoutly  did  I  lament, 
that  the  advantage  in  argument  did  not  rest  with  my  ad- 
mired friend.  Mason;  and  I  was  especially  desirous  that 
this  last  argument  should  have  been  completely  confuted. 
I  was  positive,  that  God  never  gave  eternal  life  to  any 
unbeliever;  and  yet  I  was  perplexed  to  decide  how,  if 
God    had    not  given    life    to  unbelievers,  they    could 
possibly  7nake  God  a  liar,  by  believing  that  he  had  not. 
My  mind  was  incessantly  exercised,  and  greatly  embar- 
rassed upon  this  question.     What  is  it  to  make  any  one 
a  liar,  but  to  deny  the  truth  of  what  he  has  said?     But, 
if  God  had  no  where  said,  he  had  given  life  to  unbelievers 
hov/  could  the  unbeliever  make  God  a  liar?     The  stronger 
this  argument  seemed  in  favor  of  the  grace  and  love  of 
God,  the  more  distressed  and  unhappy  1  became;  and 
most  earnestly  did  I  wish,  that  Mr.   Mason's  pamphlet 
might  contain  something  that  was  more  rational,  more 
scriptural,  than  a  mere  pun;  that  he  might  be  able  to  ad- 
duce proof  positive,  that  the  gift  of  God,  which  is  ever- 
lasting life,  was  never  given  to  any  but  believers.     I  was 
indisputably  assured,  that  I  myself  was  a  believer;  and 
right  precious  did  I  hold  my  exclusive  property  in  the  Son 
of  God.     . 

At  the  appointed  time,  I  met  Mr.  Mason  in  the  vestry. 

'  Well,  sir,  I  presume  you  have  read  my  manuscript?'     I 

have,  sir,  and  I  have  read  it  repeatedly.    '  Well,  sir,  speak 

freely,  is  there  any  thing  in  the  manuscript  which  you 

10 


106  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHK    MURRAY. 

dislike?'  Why,  sir,  as  you  are  so  good  as  to  indulge  me 
with  the  liberty  of  speaking,  I  will  venture  to  point  out 
one  passage,  which  appears  to  me  not  sufficiently  clear. 
Pardon  me,  sir,  but  surely  argument,  especially  upon  re- 
ligious subjects y  is  preferable  to  ridicule,  to  punning  upon 
the  name  of  an  author.  '  And  where,  pray,  is  the  objec- 
tionable paragraph,  to  which  you  advert?'  I  pointed  it 
out;  but,  on  looking  in  his  face,  I  observed  his  counte- 
nance fallen;  it  was  no  longer  toward  me.  Mr.  Mason 
questioned  my  judgment,  and  never  afterward  honored  me 
by  his  attention.  However,  I  still  believed  Mason  right, 
and  Kelly  wrong;  for  if  Relly  was  right,  the  conclusion 
was  unavoidable,  all  men  must  finally  be  saved.  But  this 
was  out  of  the  question,  utterly  impossible;  all  religious 
denoDiinations  agreed  to  condemn  this  heresy,  to  consid- 
er it  as  a  damnable  doctrine,  and  what  every  religious  de- 
nomination united  to  condemn,  must  be  false.* 

Thus,  although  I  lost  the  favor  of  Mr.  Mason,  and 
he  published  his  pamphlet  precisely  as  it  stood,  when 
submitted  to  my  perusal,,yet  my  reverential  regard  for  him 
was  not  diminished.  I  wished,  mostcordially  wished  suc- 
cess to  his  book,  and  destruction  to  the  author  against 
whom  it  was  written. 

In  this  manner,  some  months  rolled  over  my  head, 
when,  accompanying  my  wife  on  a  visit  to  her  aunt,  after 
the  usual  ceremonies,  I  repaired,  according  to  custom, 
to  the  book-case,  and  turning  over  many  books  and 
pamphlets,  I  at  length  opened  one,  that  had  been  robbed 
of  its  title  page;  but  in  running  it  over,  I  came  to  the 
very  argument,  which  had  excited  so  much  anxiety  in 
my  bosom.  It  was  the  first  moment  1  had  ever  seen 
a  line  of  Mr.  Kelly's  writing,  except  in  Mr.  Mason's 
pamphlet.  I  was  much  astonished,  and  turning  to  Mrs. 
Murray,  I  informed  her,  I  held  Mr..  Kelly's  tjnion  in 
my  hand.  I  asked  our  uncle,  if  I  might  put  it  in  my 
pocket?  'Surely,'  said  he,  'and  keep  it  there,  if  you 
please,  I  never  read  books  of  divinity;  I  know  not  what 
the  pamphlet  is,  nor  do  I  wish  to  know.'  As  I  put  it 
into  my  pocket,  my  mind  became  alarmed,  and  perturb- 
ed. It  was  dangerous,  it  was  tampering  with  poison; 
it  was  like  taking  fire  into  my  bosom;.  I  had  better 
throw  it  into  the  flames,  or  restore  it  to  the  book-case; 
*In  the  state  of  Mr.  Murray's  mind  at  that  time,  we  have  a  lively 
representation  of  what  is  true  of  thousands  who  would  pass  for  sin- 
cere inquirers  after  truth.  We  cannot  withhold  the  following  senti- 
ment :  '  Truth  is  no  less  true  on  account  of  the  weakness  of  its  vota- 
ries ;  nor  can  error  be  made  truth  by  the  approbation  of  misguided 
millions.' 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  W7 

such  was  the  conflict  in  my  bosom.  However  in  the 
full  assurance,  that  the  elect  were  safe;  and  that,  although 
they  took  any  deadly  thing,  it  should  not  hurt  them,  I 
decided  to  read  the  Union;  and  having  thus  made  up  my 
mind,  experienced  a  degree  of  impatience,  until  I  reach- 
ed home,  when,  addressing  the  dear  companion  of  my 
youth,  I  said,  I  have,  my  dear,  judged,  and  condemned, 
before  1  have  heard;  but  I  have  now  an  opportunity  given 
me  for  deliberate  investigation.  '  But,'  returned  Mrs. 
Murray,  *  are  we  sufficient  of  ourselves.?'  No,  my  love, 
certainly  we  are  not;  but  God,  all  gracious,  hath  said, 
If  any  lack  wisdom,  let  them  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  lib- 
erally and  upbraideth  not.  My  heart  is  exercised  by 
fearful  apprehensions;  this  moment  I  dread  to  read,  the 
next  I  am  anxious  to  hear  what  the  author  can  say.  We 
will,  therefore,  lay  this  book  before  our  God.  There 
is,  my  love,  a  God,  who  is  not  far  from  every  one  of 
us :  we  are  directed  to  make  our  requests  known  unto 
Him  for  all  things,  by  supplication  and  prayer.  God 
hath  never  yet  said  to  any.  Seek  ye  my  face,  in  vain; 
we  will  then  pray  for  his  direction  and  counsel;  and  we 
may  rest  in  the  assurance  of  obtaining  both.  Accord- 
ingly, we  entered  our  closet,  and  both  of  us,  for  we  were 
both  equally  interested,  prostrated  ourselves  before 
God,  with  piayers  and  tears,  beseeching  Him,  the  God 
of  mercy,  to  look  with  pity  on  us;  we  were  on  the  point 
of  attending  to  doctrines  of  which  we  were  not,  we 
could  not  be  judges,  and  we  earnestly  supplicated  Him 
to  lead  us  into  all  truth.  If  the  volume  before  us  con- 
tained truth,  we  entreated  Him  to  show  it  to  us,  and  to 
increase  our  faith;  if  on  the  other  hand,  it  contained 
falsehood,  we  beseeched  God  to  make  it  manifest,  that 
we  might  not  be  deceived.  No  poor  criminal  ever  prayed 
for  life,  when  under  sentence  of  death,  with  greater 
fervor  of  devotion,  than  did  my  laboring  soul  upon  this 
occasion  supplicate  for  the  light  of  life  to  direct  my 
erring  steps.  After  thus  weeping,  and  thus  supplicating, 
we  opened  the  bible,  and  began  to  read  this  book,  look- 
ing into  the  bible  for  the  passages,  to  which  the  writer 
referred.  We  were  astonished  and  delighted  at  the  beauty 
of  the  scriptures,  thus  exhibited:  it  seemed,  as  if  every 
sentence  was  an  apple  of  gold  in  a  picture  of  silver;  and 
still,  as  we  proceeded,  the  wonder  was,  that  so  much  di- 
vine truth  should  be  spoken  by  so  heinous  a  transgressor; 
and  this  consideration  seemed  suggested,  as  a  reason 
why  I  should  not  continue  reading.  Can  any  thing  good 
proceed  from  such  a  character.?     Would  not  truth  have 


108  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

been  revealed  to  men,  eminent  for  virtue  ?  How  is  it 
possible  discoveries,  so  important,  should  never,  until 
now^,  have  been  made,  and  now  only  by  this  man  ?  Yet 
I  considered,  God's  ways  were  in  the  great  deep;  he 
would  send,  by  whom  he  would  send;  choosing  the  weak 
and  base  things  to  confound  the  mighty  and  the  strong, 
that  no  flesh  should  glory  in  his  presence.  And,  as  my 
lovely  wife  justly  observed,  I  was  not  sure,  all  I  heard 
of  Mr.  Relly  was  true;  that  our  Savioiur  had  said  to 
his  disciples.  They  shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  of  you 
falsely;  and  the  present  instance  may  be  a  case  in  point. 
'  You  have  no  personal  acquaintance  with  Mr,  Relly,' 
said  she:  'nor  do  you  know,  that  any  of  those,  from 
whom  you  have  received  his  character;  are  better  in- 
formed than  yourself.  I  think  it  doth  not  become  us  to 
speak  or  believe  evil  of  any  man,  without  the  strongest 
possible  proof  All  this,  was  rational;  I  felt  its  full 
force,  and  blushed  for  my  own  credulity.  I  proceeded 
to  read.  The  Union  introduced  me  to  many  passages  of 
scripture,  which  had  before  escaped  my  observation. 
A  student,  as  I  had  been  of  ^ the  scriptures,  from  the  first 
dawn  of  my  reason,  I  could  not  but  wonder  at  myself; 
I  turned  to  Mr.  Mason's  book,  and  I  discovered  want  of 
candor,  and  a  kind  of  duplicity,  which  had  not  before 
met  my  view,  and  which  perhaps  would  never  have 
caught  my  attention  had  I  not  read  the  Union.  I  saw 
the  grand  object  untouched,  while  Relly  had  clearly 
pointed  out  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  Yet  there  were 
many  passages,  that  I  could  not  understand,  and  I  felt 
myself  distressingly  embarrassed.  One  moment  I  wish- 
ed from  my  soul,  I  had  never  seen  the  Union;  and  the 
next  my  heart  was  enlarged,  and  lifted  up  by  considera- 
tions, which  swelled  my  bosom  to  ecstasy.  This  was 
the  situation  of  my  mind,  during  many  succeeding  months, 
and  a  large  proportion  of  my  time  was  passed  in  reading, 
and  studying  the  scriptures,  and  in  prayer.  My  under- 
standing was  pressing  on  to  new  attainments,  and  the 
prospect  brightened  before  me.  I  was  greatly  attached 
to  my  minister,  Mr.  Hitchins:  he  was  eminent  in  his 
line,  and  a  most  pleasing  preacher.  Mrs.  Murray  was 
in  the  habit  of  taking  down  his  sermons  in  short  hand. 
We  were  delighted  with  the  man,  and  accustomed  to 
consider  him  a  genuine  gospel  preacher.  It  happened, 
that  Mr.  Hitchins  took  a  journey  into  the  country,  and 
was  absent  on  the  sabbath  day.  Come,  my  dear,  said 
I,  our  minister  is  out  of  town,  let  us  avail  ourselves  of 
the  opportunity,  and  hear  the  writer  of  the  Union;  this  is  a 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHK    MURRAY,  109 

privilege,  which  few,  who  read  books,  can  have;  as  au- 
thors are  generally  numbered  with  the  dead,  before  their 
labors  are  submitted  to  the  public  eye.'  Her  consent 
was  yielded  to  my  solicitations;  but  we  were  terrified,  as 
we  passed  along,  in  the  fear  of  meeting-  some  of  our 
religious  brethren;  happily,  however,  we  reached  the 
meeting-house,  without  encountering  any  one,  to  whom 
we  were  known. 

Mr.  Relly  had  changed  his  place  of  worship,  and  we 
were  astonished  to  observe  a  striking  proof  of  the  false- 
hood of  those  reports,  which  had  reached  us;  no  coaches 
thronged  the  street,  nor  surrounded  the  door  of  this  meet-' 
ing-house;  there  was  no  vestige  of  grandeur,  either 
within  or  without.  The  house  had  formerly  been  occu- 
pied by  Quakers;  their  were  no  seats,  save  a  few  benches; 
and  the  pulpit  was  framed  of  a  few  rough  boards,  over 
which  no  plane  had  ever  passed.  The  audience  corres- 
ponded with  the  house,  they  did  not  appear  very  reli- 
gious; that  is,  they  were  not  melancholy;  and  I  therefore 
suspected  they  had  not  much  piety.  I  attended  to  every 
thing;  the  hymn  was  good,  the  prayer  excellent,  and  I 
was  astonished  to  witness,  in  so  bad  a  man,  so  much 
apparent  devotion;  for  still,  I  must  confess,  the  pre- 
judices, I  had  received  from  my  religious  friends,  were 
prevalent  in  my  mind.  Mr.  Relly  gave  out  his  text. 
'  Either  make  the  tree  good,  and  its  fruit  good,  or  the  tree 
corrupt,  and  its  fruit  corrupt;  for  every  tree  is  known  by 
its  fruit;  a  good  tree  cannot  bring  forth  corrupt  fruit, 
neither  can  a  colrrupt  tree  bring  forth  good  fruit.'  I  was 
immeasurably  surprised.  What,  thought  I,  has  this  man 
to  do  with  a  passage,  so  calculated  to  condemn  himself.-* 
But,  as  he  proceeded,  every  faculty  of  my  soul  was  pow- 
erfully seized  and  captivated,  and  I  was  perfectly  amazed, 
while  he  explained  who  we  were  to  understand  by  the 
good  and  who  by  the  bad  trees.  He  proved,  beyond  con- 
tradiction, that  a  good  tree  could  not  bring  forth  any 
corrupt  fruit,  but  there  was  no  man,  who  lived  and  sin- 
ned not;  all  mankind  had  corrupted  themselves,  there 
were  none  therefore  good;  no,  not  one. 

No  mere  man,  since  the  fall,  has  been  able  to  keep 
the  commandments  of  God;  but  daily  doth  break  them,  in 
thought,  in  word  and  in  deed.  There  was,  however, 
one  good  tree,  JESUS;  He  indeed  stands,  as  the  apple- 
tree,  among  the  trees  of  the  wood;  He  is  that  good  tree 
which  cannot  ])ring  forth  corrupt  fruit;  under  His  shadow 
the  believer  reposeth;  the  fruit  of  this  tree  is  sweet  to  his 
taste;  and  the  matter  of  his  theme  constantly  is  '  Whom 

10* 


110  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN    JIURRAY, 

hxive  lin  heaven,  but  thee,  and  there  is  none  up  an  earth, 
that  I  desire,  beside  thee.'  I  was  constrained  to  believe, 
that  I  had  never,  until  this  moment,  heard  the  Redeem- 
er preached;  and,  as  I  said,  I  attended  with  my  whole 
soul.  I  was  humbled,  I  was  confounded;  I  saw  clearly, 
that  I  had  been  all  my  life  expecting  good  fruit  from 
corrupt  trees,  grapes  on  thorns,  and  Jigs  on  thistles.  I 
suspected  myself;  1  had  lost  my  standing;  I  was  unsettled, 
perturbed,  and  wretched.  A  few  individuals,  whom  I 
had  known  at  Mr.  Whitefield's  tabernacle,  were  among 
Mr.  Kelly's  audience,  and  I  heard  them  say,  as  they 
passed  out  of  the  aisle  of  the  church,  I  wonder  how  the 
Pharisees  would  like  our  preacher.''  I  wished  to  hear 
Mrs.  Murray  speak  upon  the  subject;  but  we  passed  on 
wrapped  in  contemplation.-  At  length  I  broke  silence: 
Well,  my  dear,  what  are  your  sentiments  ?  '  Nay,  my 
dear,  what  is  your  opinion  f'  I  never  heard  trifth,  un- 
adulterated truth,  before;  so  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven,  if  the  scriptures  be  the  word  of  God,  the  testi- 
mony this  day  delivered,  is  the  truth  of  God.  It  is  the 
first  consistent  sermon  I  have  ever  heard.  I  reached 
home  full  of  this  sermon;  took  up  the  Union,  read  it 
with  new  pleasure;  attended  again  and  again,  upon  Mr. 
Rally,  and  was  more  and  more  astonished.  Mr.  Hitch- 
ins  returned  home,  but,  as  I  conceived,  very  much  chang- 
ed, more  inconsistent  than  ever.  '  No,  my  dear,'  said 
my  wife,  '  it  is  you,  who  are  changed;  he  preaches,  as  I 
can  prove  by  my  notes,  precisely  the  same;  yet  it  is  truly 
surprising,  that  his  multiplied  contradictions  have,  until 
now,  passed  without  our  observation.'  Well,  said  I, 
what  are  we  to  do.**  Can  we,  in  future  bear  such  in- 
consistencies, now  that  we  are  better  informed?  Suppose 
we  keep  our  seats  as  usual;  attending,  however,  one 
half  of  every  Sabbath,  to  the  preache)'  of  Christ  Jesus? 
On  this  we  immediately  determined,  and,  by  this  expe- 
dient, we  imagined  we  might  be  gratified  by  hearing 
the  truth,  without  running  the  risk  of  losing  our  repu- 
tation; for  we  well  knew,  that  as  professed  adherents 
of  Mr.  Relly,  we  could  no  longer  preserve  that  spotless 
fame  loe  delighted  to  cherish' 

I  now  commenced  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  with 
augmented  diligence.  The  Bible  was  indeed  a  new  book 
to  me;  the  veil  was  taken  from  my  heart,  and  the  word 
of  my  God  became  right  precious  to  my  soul.  Many 
scriptures,  that  I  had  not  before  known,  forcibly  pressed 
upon  my  observation;  and  many,  that,  until  now,  I  had 
not  suffered  myself  to  believe.     Still  the  doctrine  of  elec- 


IIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  Ill 

Hon  distressed  me;  unfortunately,  I  had  connected  this 
doctrine  of  election  Vvith  the  doctrine  of  Jinal  reprobation; 
not  considering,  that,  although  the  Jirst  was  indubitably 
a  scripture  doctiine,  the  last  was  not  to  he  found  in,  nor 
could  be  supported  by  revelation:^  I  deterniined  to  call 
upon,  and  con\^erse  with  Mr.  Hitchins,  on  this  important 
subject.  I  found  him  in  his  study,  encompassed  about 
with  the  writings  of  great  men.  I  wait  upon  you,  sir,  for 
the  purpose  of  obtaining  help.  The  Arminians  show 
me  many  scriptures,  which  proclaim  the  universality  of 
the  Atonement.  I  cannot  answer  them.  What  my  dear 
«ir,  shall  I  do?  'Why,  sir,  the  doctrines  of  election,  and 
reprobation,  are  doctrines  we  are  bound  to  believe,  as 
articles  of  our  faith;  but  I  can  say,  with  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Hervey,  I  never  wish  to  think  of  them,  except  upon  my 
knees.  I  never  heai'd  any  one  undertake  to  explain  them, 
who  did  not  still  further  embarrass  the  subject.  One  bo- 
servation  is,  however,  conclusive,  and  it  never  fails  ef- 
fectually to  silence  the  Arminian:  That  if,  as  they  af- 
firm, Christ  died  for  all  men,  then  assuredly  all  men  must 
he  saved;  for  no  one  can  he  eternally  lost,  for  whom  the 
Redeemer  shed  his  precious  blood;  such  an  event  is  im- 
possible. Now,  as  the  Arminians  will  iiot  admit  a  pos- 
sibility, that  all  will  finally  be  saved,  they  are  thus  easily 
confounded.'  This,  I  thought,  was  very  good;  it  was 
clear,  as  any  testimony  in  divine  revelation,  that  Christ 
Jesus,  died  for  all,  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  for 
every  man,  Slc;  and  even  Mr.  Hitchens  had  declared, 
that  every  one,  for  whom  Christ  died  irnist  finally  be 
saved.  This  I  took  home  with  me  to  my  wife:  she  saw 
the  truth,  that  we  were  so  well  prepared  to  embrace, 
manifested  even  by  the  testimony  of  its  enemies,  and  we 
were  inexpressibly  anxious  to  hear,  and  to  understand. 
We  now  attended  public  worship,  not  only  as  a  duty, 
conceiving  that  we  thus  increased  a  fund  of  righteousness, 
upon  which  we  were  to  draw  in  eveiy  exigence,  but  it 
became  our  pleasure,  our  consolation,  and  our  highest  en- 
joyment. We  began  to  feed  upon  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,  and  every  discovery  we  made  filled  us  with  unut- 
terable transport.  I  regarded  my  friends  with  increasing 
affection,  and  I  conceived,  if  I  had  an  opportunity  of  con- 
versing icith  the  whole  world,  the  whole  world  would  he 

*  It  was  quite  natural  for  Mr.  Murray,  impressed  as  his  mind  was 
with  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Whitefield,  to  embrace  the  doctrine  of 
Election,  as  here  given.  Universalists  generally  would,  perhaps 
now  dissent  from  his  peculiar  views  of  the  subject.  Our  own  senti- 
ments are  well  expressed  in  Eph,  i.  1 — 10.  Ed. 


112  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

convinced.     It  might  truly  have  been  said,  that  we  had  a 
taste  of  heaven  below. 

It  was  soon  whimpered  in  the  tabernacle,  that  I  had  fre- 
quently been  seen  going  to,   and  coming  from  Relly's 
meeting!     This  alarmed  many,  and  one  dear  friend  con- 
versed with  me  in  private  upon  the  subject,  heard  what, 
from  the  abundance  of  my  heart,  my  mouth  was  con- 
strained to  utter,  smiled,  pitied  me,  and  begged  I  would 
not  be  too  communicative,  lest  the  business  should  be 
brought  before  the  society,  and  excommunication  might 
follow.     I  thanked  him  for  his  caution;  but  as  I  had  con- 
versed only  with  him,  I  had  hazarded  nothing.     In  a  short 
time  I  was  cited  to  appear  before  the  society,  worshipping 
in  Mr,  Whitefield's  tabernacle;  I  obeyed  the  summons, 
and  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  very  gloomy  compa- 
ny, all  seemingly  in  great  distress;  they  sighed  very  bit- 
terly, and  at  last  gave  me  to  understand,  that  they  had 
heard,  I  had  become  an  attendant  upon  that  monster, 
Relly,  and  they  wished  to  know  if  their  information  was 
correct.     I  requested  I  might  be  told,  from  whom  they 
had  their  intelligence.''  and  they  were  evidently  embar- 
rassed by  my  question.     Still,  however,  I  insisted  upon 
being  confronted  with  my  accuser,  and  they  at  length 
consented  to  summon  him;  but  I  was  nearly  petrified, 
when  I  learned  it  was  the  identical  friend,  who  had  j)ri- 
vately  conversed  with  me,  and  who  had  privately  caution- 
ed me,  that  had  lodged  the  information  against  me '     Up- 
on this  friend  I  had  called,  in  my  way  to  the  tabernacle, 
confiding  to  him  my  situation;  he  said,  he  had  feared  the 
event;  he  pitied  me,  and  prayed  with  me.     But  he  did  not 
calculate  upon  being  confronted  with  me,  and  his  confu- 
sion was  too  great  to  -suffer  his  attendance.     It  was  then 
referred  to  me :     '  Was  it  a  fact,  had  I  attended  upon 
Relly? '     I  had.     ^  Did  I  believe  what  I  heard? '     I  an- 
swered, that    I  did — and   my  trial  commenced.      They 
could  not  prove,  I  had  violated  those  articles,  to  which  I 
had  subscribed.     I  had,  in  no  point  of  view,  infringed 
the  contract,  by  which  I  was  bound.     But  they  appre- 
hended, if  I  continued  to  approbate  Relly,  by  my  occa- 
sional attendance  on  his  ministry,  my  example  %yould  be- 
come contagious;  except,  therefore,  I  would  give  them 
my  word,  that  I  would  wholly  abandon  this  pernicious 
practice,  they  must,  however  unwillingly,  pronounce  up- 
on me  the  sentence  of  excommunication.     I  refused  to 
bind  myself  by  any  promise;  1  assured  them,  I  would  con- 
tinue to  hear,  and  to  judge  for  myself;  and  that  I  held  it 
my  duty,  to  receive  the  truth  of  God  wherever  it  might 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  113 

be  manifested.  '  But  Rally  holds  the  truth  in  unright- 
eousness.' 1  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  unrighteous 
nessj  my  own  conduct  is  not  more  reprehensible,  than 
heretofore.  They  granted  this;  but  the  force  of  exam- 
ple was  frequently  irresistible,  and,  if  I  were  permitted  to 
follow  uncensured,  my  own  inclination,  others  might 
claim  the  same  indulgence,  to  the  utter  perversion  of  their 
souls.  It  was  then  conceded  in  my  favor,  that,  if  I  would 
confine  my  sentiments  to  my  own  bosom,  they  would 
continue  me  a  member  of  their  communion.  I  refused  to 
accede  to  this  proposal.  1  would  not  be  under  an  obli- 
gation to  remain  silent.  I  must,  so  often  as  opportunity 
might  present,  consider  myself  a$  called  upon  to  advocate 
truth.  The  question  was  then  put — Should  I  be  con- 
sidered a  member  of  the  society  upon  my  own  terms? 
\nd  it  was  lost  by  only  three  voices. 

It  was  one  in  the  morning,  when  I  returned  home  to 
my  poor  disconsolate  wife,  who  Avas  waiting  formej  and 
when  I  entered  her  apartment,  my  spirits  were  so  sunk, 
that,  throwing  myself  into  a  chair,  I  burst  into  tears. 
But  the  sweet  soother  of  my  every  woe,  hastened  to  com- 
municate that  consolation,  she  w  s  so  eminently  qualifi- 
ed to  bestow.  *  Now,'  said  she,  '  for  the  first  time,  you 
know  what  it  is  to  suffer  for  Christ's  sake;  and  you  must 
arm  yourself  with  fortitude  to  bear,  what  the  adherents 
of  Mr.  Relly  must  always  bear.  Let  us  offer  up  praise 
and  thanksgiving,  that  it  is  no  worse.  Fear  not  those, 
who  can  only  kill  the  body;  these,  however,  have  not  power 
to  kill  the  body;  it  is  true  they  can  do  more;  they  can 
murder  our  good  name,  which  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than 
life  itself.  But  let  us  not  fear;  our  God  will  be  with  us. 
He  will  preserve,  and  protect  us.'  Our  hearts,  however, 
were  very  full,  and  with  great  devotion  we  wept  and 
prayed  together. 

About  this  time,  the  grandfather  of  my  Eliza  sent  for 
her  to  visit  him  at  his  country  seat,  ten  miles  from  Lon- 
don; this  was  highly  gratifying,  and  abundantly  more  so, 
as  I  also  was  included  in  the  invitation.  After  seeing 
and  conversing  with  me,  he  sincerely  lamented,  that  he 
had  been  so  far  duped  by  the  artful,  and  designing,  as  to 
put  the  disposition  of  the  fi-reater  part  of  his  property  at 
his  decease  entirely  out  of  his  own  power;  but  what  he 
could  do,  he  most  cheerfully  did.  Yet  even  here  we 
were  pursued  by  disappointment.  He  requested  me  to 
procure  him  a  capable,  sober  domestic;  and  I  engaged 
a  woman,  who,  as  I  believed,  answered  his  description; 
but,  proving  an  artful  hussey,  she   gradually  obtained, 


114  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

over  the  mind  of  the  old  gentleman,  an  astonishing  in- 
fluence, that  resulted  in  a  marriage,  which  effectually  pre- 
vented  his  family  connexions  from  ever  again   visiting 
him !      Thus  were  our  new-born  expectations,  from  "  a 
reconciled  parent,  levelled  with  the  dust.     A  series  of 
calamities  succeeded;  those  whom   I  had  esteemed  my 
best,  and  dearest  friends,  ])roved  my  most  inveterate  foes, 
and,  finding  it  impossible  to  reclaim  us,  from  what  they 
conceived  paths  of  error,  persecuted  us  with  unceasing 
virulence.     Presents,  bestowed  in  the  day  of  confidence, 
as  tokens  of  aff*ection,  were  claimed  as  legal  debts;  and 
as  the  law  does  not  allow  presents,  I  was  arrested  for  the 
amount,  betrayed,  by  my  religious  friends,  into  the  hands 
of  bailiffs,  at  a  time  Vv'hen,  had  the  promised  lenity  been 
exercised,    I  could   have   paid   to    the   utmost   farthing. 
Thus  heaven  thought  proper  to  keep  us  low;  but  our 
faith   increased,    and   we   cherished    that   hope,    which 
maketh  not  ashamed;  and,  even  while  struggling  with 
difficulties,  we  enjoyed  a  heaven  upon  earth.     Gradually 
I  surmounted  the  greater  part  of  my  difficulties.     At  the 
house  of  our  brother  William,  I  had  an  interview  with 
our  once  obdurate  younger  brother;  he  seemed  penetrat- 
ed  with  sorrow  for  our   long-continued   estrangement; 
he  hung  upon  my  neck,  wept  bitterly,  and  expressed  a 
fear,  that  I  could  never  forgive  him.     I  also   shed  many 
tears,  and  extending  to  him  the  hand  of  amity,  clasped  him 
to  my  bosom,  with  a  most  cordial  embrace.     This  was  a 
most  pleasant  circumstance  to  my  beloved  Eliza;  all  now 
seemed  delightful.     We  had  a  sweet  little  retirement  in 
a  rural  part  of  the  city;  we  wanted  but  little,  and  our 
"wants  were  all  supplied;    and  perhajjs  we  enjoyed  as 
much,  as  human  nature  can  enjoy.     One  dear  pledge   of 
love,  a  son,  whom  my  wife  regarded  as  the  image  of  his 
father,  completed  our  felicityj     But,  alas!  this  boy  was 
lent  us  no  more  than  one  short  year !     He  expired  in  the 
arms  of  his  agonized  mother,  whose  health,  from  that 
fatal  moment,  began  to  decline.     1  was  beyond  expression 
terrified.     Physicians  recommended  the  country;  but  my 
business  confined  me  in  London,   and  my  circumstances 
would  not  admit  of  my  renting  two  houses.     I  took  lodg- 
ings at  a  small   distance   from   town,  returning  myself 
every  day  to  Lonaon.     The  disorder  advanced  with  ter- 
rific strides;    my^  soul  was   tortured;    every  time    I    ap- 
proached her  chamber,  even  the  sigh,  which  proclaimed 
she  still  lived,  administered  a  melancholy  rebef.     This 
was  indeed  a  time  of  sorrow  and  distress,  beyond  what  I 
had  ever  before  known ;  I  have  been  astonished  how  I 


LIFE    OF    F.EV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  115 

existed  through  such  scenes.     Surely,  in  every  llaie  of 
trouble,  God  is  a  very  present  help.     1  was  obliged  to  re- 
move the  dear  creature,  during  her  reduced  situation, 
the  house  in  which  I  had  taken  lodgings  being  sold;  but 
I  obtained  for  her  a  situation  about  four  miles  from  town. 
The  scenes  around  her  new  lodgings  were  charming:  she 
seemed  pleased,  and  I  was  delighted.     For  a  few  days 
we  believed  her  better,   and  again -I  experienced  all  the 
rapture  of  hope.     My  difficulties,  however,  were  many; 
I  was  necessitated  to  pass  my  days  in  London;  coUld  1 
have  continued  with  her,  it  would  have  been  some  relief. 
But  as  my  physician  gave  me  no  hope,  when  I  parted 
from  her  in  the  morning,  I  was  frequently  terrified  in  the 
dread  of  meeting  death  on  my  return.      Often,  for  my 
sake,  did  the  sweet  angel  struggle  to  appear  relieved,  but, 
alas !  I  could  discern  it  was  a  struggle,  and  my  anguish 
became  still  more  poignant.     To  add  to  my  distresses, 
poverty  came  in  like  a  flood.     I  had  my  house  in  town, 
a  servant  there;  the  doctor,  the  apothecary,  the  nurse,  the 
lodgings  in   the  country;  every  thing  to  provide;  daily 
passing,  and  repassing*     Truly  my  heart  was  very  sore. 
I  was  friendless.     My  religious  friends  had,  on  my  hear- 
ing and  advocating  the  doctrines,  preached  by  all   God's 
holy  prophets  ever  since  the  world  began,  become  my 
most  inveterate  foes.     Our  grandfather  was  under  the  do- 
minion  of  the  woman   I  had  introduced  to    him,   who 
had    barred   his    doors    against   us;    the  heart    of    our 
younger   brother   was    again   closed,    and,   as    if    angry 
with  himself  for  the  concessions  he  had  made,  was  more 
than  ever  estranged;  and  even  our  elder  brother,  who  in 
every  situation  had  for  a  long  season  evinced  himself  my 
faithful  friend,  had  forsaken  us !     I  had,  most  indiscreetly, 
ventured  to  point  out  some  errors  in  the  domestic  ar- 
rangements of  his  wife,  which  I  believed  would  eventuate 
in  his  ruin,  and  he  so  far  resented  this  freedom,  as  to 
abandon  all  intercourse  with  me.     Among  Mr.  Relly's 
acquaintance,  I  had  no  intimates,  indeed  hardly  an   ac- 
quaintance; I  had  suffered  so  much  from  religious  con- 
nexions, that  I  had  determined,  as  much  as  possible,  to 
stand  aloof,  during  the  residue  of  my  journey  through  life. 
Thus  was  I  circumstanced,  when  the  fell  destroyer  of  my 
peace  aimed  his  most  deadly  shafts  at  the  bosom  of  a  be- 
ing, far  dearer  to  me  than  my  existence.     My  credit  fail- 
ing, my  wants  multiplying,  blessed  be  God,  my  Eliza  was 
ignorant  of  the  extent  of  my  sufferings;  she  would  have 
surrendered  up  her  life,  even  if  she  had  feared  death, 
rather  than  have  perniitted  an  application  to  either  of  her 


116  LIFE    OF    REV.    .JOHN    MURRAY. 

brothers;  yet  was  I,  by  the  extremity  of  my  distrcsSj  pre- 
cipitated upon  a  step  so  humiliating.      Stopping  at   a 
coti'ee-house  near  our  brother  William's,  1  penned  a  hur- 
ried line,  requesting  he   would  give  me   an   immediate 
meeting;  and  sending  it  by  a  porter,  I  waited,  in  agony 
indescribable,  its  effect.     Almost  instantaneously  he  en- 
tered the  coffee-house,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  took 
a  seat;  nor  was  I  for  some  moments  able  to  articulate. 
My  soul  was  tortured;  he  saw  it,  and  could  not  avoid 
feeling.     At  length  he  questioned,  '  Pray  what  is  the  mat- 
ter.?'    Your  sister  is  very  near  her  end,  and,  were  we  both 
so,  it  would  be  to  me  cause  of  exultation,  and  you  would 
have  been  spared  this  trouble.     My  application  to  you 
will  be  a  sufficient  explanation  of  my  circumstances;  and 
should  you  think  proper  to  call  upon  a  once  dear,  now 
dying  sister,  I  have  to  request  you  would  not  notice  my 
having  sought  this  interview,  it  would  embitter  the  last 
moments  of  her  life.     He  was  amazingly  shocked,  yet, 
as  this  was  the  first  syllable  he  had  heard  of  her  indispo- 
sition, he  flattered  himself  my  fears  had  magnified  the 
danger;  but  he  assured  me,  he  would  see  her  without  de- 
lay.    I  however  desired  he  would  grant  me  time  to  pre- 
pare her  for  his  visit;  it  must,  said  I,  appear  entirely 
accidental,  and  I  hastened  to  our  lodgings.     I  met  your 
brother  William,  my  love,  who  having  heard  you  are  in- 
disposed, kindly  inquired  after  you;  I  think  he  means  to 
visit  you.      '  If,  my  precious  friend,  you  have  not  de- 
scended so  low,  as  to  ask  any  favor  of  him,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  him.'     I  will  not,  my  love,  do   any  thing, 
which  I  ought  not  to  do.     I  sat  down   by  her  bedside. 
That  face  upon  which  strangers  had  gazed  enraptured, 
was  now  the  seat  of  death's  wan  harbinger  and  her  strug- 
gles to  conceal  her  sufferings  were  but  too  visible.     Quit- 
ting the  room,  I  inquired  of  the  nurse,  how  she  had  been 
during  my   absence.'*      She  told  me,   she   had   endured 
much  pain,  was  very  anxious  for  my  return,  and  express- 
ed a  fear,  that  she  should  never  again  behold  me.     I  was 
summoned   by  the   mistress  of  the  house,  who  was  so 
charmed  by  the  deportment  of  my  Eliza,  and  had  con- 
ceived so  great  an  affection  for  her,  as  to  find  it  difficult 
to  quit  her  apartment.     But  my  suffering  friend,  taking 
my  hand,  and  drawing  me  near  her,  whispered  a  wish, 
that  we  might  be  alone;  I  gave  the  good  lady  a  hint,  who 
instantly  withdrew.     I  kneeled  by  her  bedside:  she  drew 
me  closer  to  her,  and  throwing  her  feeble,  her  emaciated 
arms  around  my  neck  she  gave  me  an  ardent  embrace;  I 
was  unutterably  affected.'     '  Be  composed  my  dear,'  said 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  117 

she,  *  and  let  these  precious  moments  be  as  calm  as  possi- 
ble; we  may  not  be  allowed  another  opportunity.  Dear 
faithful  friend,  in  life, — in  death,  dearer  to  me  than  my  own 
soul, — God  reward  you  for  all  the  kind  care  you  have 
taken  of  me.  O  !  may  my  heavenly  Father  provide  some 
one  to  supply  my  place,  who  may  reciprocate  the  kind- 
ness you  have  shown  me.  Pray  be  composed;  remember 
v/e  are  not  at  home;  that  we  shall  shortly  meet  in  our 
Father's  house  ' — here  she  paused — and  again  resuming 
— '-  Our  parting,  when  compared  with  eternity,  will  be 
i)ut  for  a  moment.  What  though  we  have  not  continued 
together  so  long  as  we  fondly  expected,  yet,  my  love,  we 
have  had  an  age  of  happiness.  It  is  you,  my  precious 
husband,  who  are  the  object  of  pity.  God  all  gracious 
console,  and  support  you.  Be  of  good  chee^r,  my  love, 
we  shall  meet  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Redeemer — indeed, 
indeed  we  shall.'  Again,  she  threw  her  dying  arms 
around  me;  her  soul  seemed  struggling  with  the  magni- 
tude of  her  emotions.  For  me,  I  could  not  have  articu- 
lated a  syllable  for  the  world.  It  is  astonishing  I  did  not 
expire;  but  there  is  a  time  to  die.  Again,  like  the 
wasting  taper,  she  seemed  to  revive.  Again  with  uncom- 
mon energy,  she  pronounced,  upon  her  almost  frenzied 
husband,  the  most  solemn  benediction;  this  brought  on  a 
cough,  she  pointed  to  a  phial  upon  her  dressing  table.  I 
gave  her  a  few  drops.  '  There,  my  best  friend,  I  am 
better — be  composed  my  faithful,  my  suffering  guide,  pro- 
tector, husband.  Oh!  trust  in  the  Lord:  let  us,  my  love, 
stay  upon  the  God  of  our  salvation;  He  will  never  leave 
us;  He  will  never  forsake  us' — then  grasping  my  hand, 
t!iie  continued:  'These  moments,  my  dear  are  very  pre- 
cious; we  have  had  many  precious  moments;  you  will 
not  go  out  again,  I  shall  not  again  lo^  sight  of  you. 
You  will  abide  with  me,  so  long  as  I  shall  continue' — 
I  could  contain  no  longer:  My  suppressed  agony  became 
audible;  she  drew  me  to  her:  '  Do  not  distress  me, 
my  love.' — She  was  deeply  affected;  her  cough  came  on 
with  additional  violence.  The  sound  of  my  voice  brought 
in  the  kind  lady  of  the  house;  she  believed  the  angel  had 
escaped.  I  requested  her,  to  reach  the  phial.  The  ex- 
piring saint  motioned  it  away.  '  It  is  too  late  my  love,' 
she  would  have  added;  but  utterance  instantly  failed  her, 
and  without  a  single  struggle,  she  breathed  her  last,  still 
holding  my  hand  fast  in  hers.  I  was  on  my  knees  by  her 
bedside,  I  saw  she  was  breathless,  but  she  still  held  m; 
hand.  Ten.  thousand  worlds,  had  I  possessed  them 
would  have  given,  for  permission  to  have  accompanied 
11 


7i 


118  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

her  beatified  spirit.  I  am  astonished  that  I  retained  my 
reason.  Only  a  few  weeks,  a  few  tremendous  weeks 
smce  the  commencement  of  her  ilhiess,  had  rolled  on 
when,  kneeling  in  speechless  agony  by  her  bedside,  I  saw 
her  breathe  her  last;  she  expired  without  a  sigh,  without 
a  pang,  and  I  Avas  left  to  the  extreme  of  wretchedness. 
A  few  moments  gave  me  to  reflection — I  contemplated 
her  form,  beautiful  even  in  death;  she  was  now  no  more 
a  sufferer  either  in  body  or  mind,  and,  for  a  little  while,  I 
derived  malignant  satisfaction,  from  the  consideration  of 
what  her  brothers  would  endure,  when  they  found,  that, 
in  this  world,  they  should  no  more  behold  her.  I  was 
shocked  at  myself;  it  seemed  as  if  the  sainted  spirit  mildly 
reproved  me;  I  clasped  my  hands  in  agony;  I  supplicated 
pardon  of  the  deceased,  and  of  her  God.  It  appeared  to 
me,  I  had  been  deficient  in-  affection,  and  the  idea  spoke 
daggers  to  my  soul.  Memory  cruelly  summoned  before 
me  many  instances,  in  which  she  might  have  been  obliged 
but  distraction  was  in  this  thought.  I  sat  in  speechless 
agony  by  her  bedside;  having  locked  the  door,  no  one 
could  obtain  entrance.  Almighty  God,  how  unutterable 
were  the  sorrows  of  my  soul ! ! ! 

I  was  aroused  from  this  state,  by  the  arrival  of  our 
brother  William.  He  obtained  entrance;  he  glanced 
upon  the  bed — gazed  for  a  moment — averted  his  eye, 
— trembled,  and  became,  pale  as  the  face  of  my  lament- 
ed saint — and  at  length  in  silent  agony,  quitted  the 
apartment.  The  good  lady  of  the  house  now  made  her 
appearance,  and  in  a  tone  of  sympathy  supplicated  me 
to  retire.  The  necessary  offices  were  performed,  and  all 
that  remained  of  my  wedded  friend  was  prepared  for 
the  undertaker,  who  came  by  the  order  of  her  opulent 
brother:  that  brother,  who  had  nefariously  robbed  her 
of  her  right  of  inheritance,  who  contributed  so  largely, 
while  she  lived,  to  her  sufferings,  and  who  now  endured 
anguish  more  than  equivalent  for  all  the  riches  of  the 
world.  A  hearse  and  mourning  coaches  attended,  and 
the  dear  remains,  followed  by  her  brothers  and  their 
families,  were  entombed  in  the  family  vault.  The  coach- 
man was  directed  to  convey  me,  after  the  interment,  to 
the  house  of  our  younger  brother.  He  was  again  a  prey 
to  contrition  and  sorrow,  and  he  urged  me  to  cherish 
hope.  I  assured  him,  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  hope,  at 
least  in  this  world.  He  made  great  professions  of  affec- 
tion, and  liberal  promises  of  future  kindness :  but  it  was  too 
late :  and  though  I  believe  he  was  at  the  time  sincere,  yet, 
when  his  strong  feelings  subsided,  he  was  himself  again. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOIlIi    ML':;:iAY.  119 

Here  I  close  another  period  of  my  eventful  life !  What 
a  sad  reverse!  A  few  short  weeks  since,  Iwas  in  the 
most  enviable  circumstances;  my  situation  was  charm- 
ing, my  dwelling  neat  and  commodious,  my  wife,  the 
object  of  my  soul's  devout  and  sincere  affection,  her 
lovely  offspring  swelling  the  rapture  of  the  scene,  a  male 
and  female  domestic  attached  to  our  persons,  and  faith- 
ful to  our  interest;  and  tha  pleasing  hope,  that  I  should 
enjoy  a  long  succession  of  these  delights.  Now  I  was 
alone  in  the  world;  no  wife,  no  child,  no  domestics,  no 
home;  nothing  but  the  ghosts  of  my  departed  joys.  In 
religion,  and  religion  only,  the  last  resort  of  the  wretch- 
ed, 1  found  the  semblance  of  repose;  religion  taught  me 
to  contemplate  the  state  to  which  I  was  hastening;  my 
dreams  presented  my  departed  Eliza;  I  saw  her  in  a 
variety  of  views,  but  in  every  view  celestial:  sometimes 
she  was  still  living,  but  in  haste  to  be  gone;  sometimes 
she  descended  upon  my  imagination,  an  heavenly  visit- 
ant, commissioned  to  coiiduct  me  home;  and  so  much  of 
felicity  did  I  derive  from  those  dreams,  that  I  longed 
for  the  hour  of  repose,  that  I  might  reiterate^the  vision- 
ary bliss. 

But  new  embarrassments  awaited  me;  doctors,  apothe- 
caries, grocers,  &c.  &c.,  advanced  with  their  bills;  yet 
I  was  not  much  affected;  I  was  overwhelmed  by  far 
greater  afflictions.  My  health  had  greatly  suffered.  My 
sight,  by  excess  of  sorrow, — so  said  my  physician, — was 
almost  gone.  Often  have  I  traversed  George's- Fields, 
where  many  have  met  death  on  the  point  of  the  foot-pad's 
dagger,  in  the  mournful  hope  of  meeting  a  similar  fate; 
forgetting,  in  the  state  to  which  I  was  reduced,  that,  in 
thus  devoting  myself  to  destruction,  I  indubitably  ranked 
with  the  self-murderer.  The  eldest  brother  of  my  de- 
parted friend  continued,  from  the  period  of  his  sister's 
demise,  uniformly  kind;  through  his  instrumentality, 
many  of  my  most  pressing  debts  were  discharged.  My 
mind  seemed  subdued;  it  became  a  fit  residence  for  sor- 
row, when  I  received  a  letter  from  Ireland,  written  by 
my  brother  James.  Many  of  our  family  were  numbered 
with  the  dead;  of  all  her  children,  my  mother  had  now 
only  three  surviving  sons,  and  two  daughters.  My  el- 
dest sister  was  married;  and  my  mother,  leaving  our 
common  property  in  her  care  was  about  to  repair  with 
her  youngest  daughter,  and  two  sons,  to  England.  She 
was  not  apprised  of  the  death  of  my  Eliza.  I  had  written 
her,  that  I  was  blest  with  a  most  lovely,  and  exemplary 
companion;  but  from  the  death  of  my  son,  and  the  far- 


12C  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

ther,  and  entire  prostration  of  my  terrestrial  happiness,  I 
had  suspended  my  communications.  I  was  now  again 
necessitated  to  take  a  house;  my  mother,  and  my  brothers 
resided  with  me;  and  my  sister  with  a  lady,  to  whom  she 
had  been  introduced  in  Ireland.  She  soon  after  married, 
and,  as  I  believed  imprudently,  and  I  saw  her  no  more. 
I  now  lived  a  mournful  life;  the  world  appeared  to  me  in 
a  very  different  point  of  view  from  what  it  had  formerly 
done;  yet  I  derived  ecstatic  pleasure  from  my  views  of 
revelation.  William  Neale  became  convinced  of  the 
truth,  as  it  is  ip,  Jesus;  and,  of  course,  an  adherent  of 
Mr.  Relly.  This  soothed  me,  and  the  word  of  God 
was  an  abiding  consolation.  To  a  few  individuals  I  was 
made  the  messenger  of  peace;  but  my  mother,  and  my 
brother  James,  remained  inveterate  opposers  of  the  doc- 
trines I  had  embraced.  I  sometimes  visited  the  tabernacle, 
and,  conceiving  an  affection  for  all  men,  I  had  a  kind 
of  satisfaction  in  standing  in  the  midst  of  my  brethren. 
It  was  at  the  tabernacle  I  was  informed,  that  a  poor,  un- 
happy, widowed  woman,  sister  to  a  man  whom  I  had 
loved,  was  in  most  deplorable  circumstances;  she  had 
been  deceived  by  a  villain;  her  kindred  had  been  made 
acquainted  with  her  situation,  but  their  indignation  was 
kindled  against  her;  they  would  not  see  her;  and  her 
religious  connexions  abandoned  her,  while  she  was  suf- 
fering all  the  miseries  of  want,  accompanied  by  her  own 
agonizing  reflections.  1  discovered  her  in  a  miserable 
room;  no  glass  in  the  windows,  no  fire  in  the  chimney; 
she  was  laying  on  something  which  had  been  a  bed;  a 
child,  of  a  few  days  old  in  her  bosom,  but  no  nourish- 
ment for  it;  another  child  dead  by  her  side,  and  a  third 
apparently  dying.  Upon  my  entrance  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands.  '  I  know  you,  sir;  you  are  come  to 
upbraid  me;  yes,  I  deserve  it  all;  but  by  and  by  my 
measure  will  be  full.'  I  burst  into  tears.  I  come  to  up- 
braid you?  God  forbid.  No,  poor  sufferer;  I  am  come 
a  messenger  from  that  God,  who  giveth  liberally  and  up- 
braideth  not.  Be  of  good  cheer;  you  have  still  a  Father, 
who  loves  you  with  an  everlasting  love,  and  he  has  sent 
me  to  comfort  you;  he  has  seen  your  affliction,  and  he 
^  has  bid  me  relieve  you. 

This  seemed  too  much  for  the  poor,  forlorn  creature; 
she  appeared  in  the  moment  of  expiring.  I  ran  out  of 
the  house,  into  a  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  alley,  the  mis- 
tress of  which  was,  to  my  knowledge,  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  situation  of  the  sufferer.  I  demanded, 
why   she   thus   neglected  a   human  being .^      'Ah,    the 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  121 

wretched  creature,  she  deserves  this  and  more,'  was  this 
good  woman^s  reply.  But  although  neither  the  love  of 
God,  nor  of  human  nature,  could  move  this  hard-hearted 
woman,  I  had  that  in  my  pocket,  which  possessed,  for 
her,  an  irresistible  charm;  and  at  the  hazard  of  my  re- 
putation, I  bade  her  procure  coal,  a  restorative  cordial, 
and  a  blanket  to  cover  the  suiferer.  I  then  proceeded 
to  the  dwelling  of  a  lady,  one  of  Mr.  Kelly's  congregation, 
to  whom  I  had  recently  been  introduced;  I  represented 
the  situation,  in  which,  in  the  midst  of  an  opulent  city, 
I  had  discovered  a  fellow  creature.  The  lady  was  ex- 
tremely affected,  and  her  aid  was  instantaneous.  The 
next  day,  Sunday,  I  again  visited  the  poor  penitent, 
whom  I  found  relieved  and  comforted.  She  requested 
me,  with  many  tears,  to  put  up  a  note  for  her  in  the  ta- 
bernacle. There  happened,  on  that  day,  to  preach  in  the 
tabernacle,  a  Mr.  Edwards,  whom  I  had  formerly  known 
in  connexion  with  Mr.  Wesley.  I  presented  a  note  in 
the  following  words :  The  prayers  of  this  congregation 
are  requested  in  behalf  of  a  widow  indeed,  -confined  to 
a  bed  of  sickness,  without  property  and  encompassed  by 
the  dying  and  the  dead.  I  attended  again  the  tabernacle 
in  the  evening,  and  when  the  sermon  closed,  Mr.  Edwards 
said :  '  If  the  person  be  here,  who  put  up  the  note  this 
morning,  in  behalf  of  a  widow  indeed,  I  should  be  glad 
to  speak  with  him  in  the  vestry.'  Accordingly  presenting 
myself,  I  was  very  cordially  received  by  Mr.  Edwards, 
who  observed,  he  was  happy  I  was  the  person;  that  his 
feelings  had  been  greatly  affected  by  the  note;  that  he 
had  read  it  to  a  lady,  at  whose  house  he  had  dined,  who, 
putting  two  guineas  into  his  hand,  requested  him,  if  pos- 
sible, to  find  out  the  widow  indeed,  and  bestow  them  upon 
her.  I  conveyed  this  little  sum  to  the  sorrowing  woman, 
with  feelings,  which  those  who  know  how  to  sympathize 
with  the  unfortunate  will  easily  understand;  and  I  assur- 
ed the  poor  mourner,  that  the  God  who  gives  and  forgives, 
had  sent  her  another  proof  of  his  favor.  Arise,  said  I, 
forlorn  sufferer,  and  sin  no  more.  I  had  the  charge  of 
the  child's  funeral;  the  other  recovered.  The  mother 
was  soon  abroad,  and  continued,  ever  after,  to  conduct 
with  exemplary  propriety.  This  instance,  among  a  thou- 
sand others,  proves,  that  faith  in  the  promises  is  the 
best  stimulus  to  that  pure  and  undefiled  religion,  which 
consists  in  relieving  the  oppressed  of  every  description; 
and  with  gratitude  I  confess,  that  this  pure  and  undefiled 
religion  was,  to  me,  a  never-failing  source  of  consola- 
tion. I  was  full  of  the  gospel;  gladly  would  I  have  sa- 
il* 


122  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

crificed  my  life,  if  I  might  thus  have  brought  all  men 
acquainted  with  the  riches  of  the  grace  of  the  gospel  of 
God  our  Saviour;  and  my  soul  was  often  wrought  up 
to  a  degree  of  ecstasy,  by  the  views,  exhibited  to  my 
understanding,  in  the  pages  of  divine  revelation.  Yes, 
I  have  experienced,  that  a  belief  of  the  truth  disposes 
the  mind  to  love  God,  and  to  do  good  to  man;  and  so 
greatly  was  my  heart  affected  by  the  plan  of  redemption, 
that  I  have,  in  the  midst  of  the  streets  of  London,  been 
so  entranced  in  contemplating  its  glories,  that  I  have  only 
been  awakened  to  recollection,  by  the  jostling  crowd,  who 
wondered  as  they  passed;  yet,  while  in  the  fulness  of 
my  heart,  I  embraced  every  opportunity  of  expatiating 
upon  the  great  salvation;  every  thing  beside  had  lost  the 
power  to  charm,  or  even  tranquillize,  and  the  tortur- 
ing sensations  I  experienced,  from  reflecting  upon  past 
times,  were  not  to  be  expressed:  Death  had  for  me  an 
angel's  face,  and  I  viewed  this  sometimes  king  of  terrors 
as  my  emancipating  friend. 

The  forbearance  of  my  creditors  was  at  length  exhaust- 
ed. Debts  crowded  upon  me.  Demands,  which  I  was 
utterly  unable  to  answer,  were  continually  made.  Had 
the  health  of  my  lovely  wife  been  continued,  I  was  in  a 
very  fine  way.  Her  sickness,  her  death,  by  dashing  from 
me  the  cup  of  felicity,  while  expenses  accumulated, 
debilitated  my  mind,  and  rendered  me  unequal  to  those 
efforts,  which  my  exigences  required.  In  the  midst  of 
my  supinjBness,  I  was  taken  by  a  writ,  and  borne  to  a 
spunging-house.  My  sensations  were,  on  this  occasion, 
very  different  from  those  which  I  had  formerly  experien- 
ced, in  a  similar  situation;  and  I  derived,  from  the 
expected  seclusion,  a  kind  of  melancholy  pleasure.  The 
officer  was  astonished  at  my  apathy;  I  refused  sustenance; 
I  had  no  inclination  for  food.  I  would  swallow  nothing 
but  water.  I  would  have  no  bed:  a  bed  must  be  paid  for, 
and  I  was  pennyless.  I  slept  on  the  floor  of  a  room, 
hung  with  cobwebs,  the  windows  of  which  were  secured 
by  iron  bars.  I  prayed  most  fervently  to  Him,  with 
whom  are  the  issues  of  life  and  death,  that,  as  He  had 
not  allowed  his  creatures  the  privilege  of  departing  out 
of  time,  when,  and  how  they  pleased.  He  would  gra- 
ciously vouchsafe  to  grant  me  my  deliverance  from  a 
world,  where  I  could  serve  neither  my  God,  my  neighbor, 
nor  myself.  But,  alas!  as  I  have  often  found,  death 
comes  not  at  call.  The  barred  windows  admitted  just 
light  enough  to  announce  the  return  of  day;  soon  after 
which,  the  keeper  unlocked  the  door,  and  in  a  surly  man- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  193 

•ner,  asked  me  how  I  did!  Indifi'erent,  sir,  I  replied. 
'  By  G — ,  I  think  bo  !  but,  sir,  give  me  leave  to  tell  j^ou, 
I  am  not  indifferent,  and  if  you  do  not  very  soon  settle 
with  your  creditors,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  lodge  you 
in  Newgate.  I  keep  nobody  in  iny  house  that  does  not 
spend  any  thing,  damn-me.  I  cannot  keep  house,  and 
pay  rent,  ajid  taxes  for  nothing.  When  a  gentleman 
behaves  civil,  I  behave  civil;  but,  damn-me,  if  they  are 
sulky,  why  then,  do  ye  see,  I  can  be  sulky  too;  so,  sir, 
you  had  better  tell  me  what  you  intend  to  do  r'  Nothing. 
'Nothing?  damn-me,  that's  a  good  one;  then,  by  G — „ 
you  shall  soon  see  I  Will  do  something,  that  you  will  not 
very  well  like.'  He  then  turned  upon  his  heel,  drew  the 
door  with  a  vengeance,  and  double-locked  it.  Soon  after 
this,  his  helpmate  presented  herself,  and  began  to  apolo- 
gize for  her  husband;  said  he  was  very  quick;  hoped  I 
would  not  be  offended,  for  he  was  a  very  good  man  in  the 
main;  that  she  believed  there  never  was  a  gentleman  in 
that  house,  (and  she  would  be  bold  to  say,  there  had 
been  a»  good  gentlemen  there,  as  in  any  house  in  London) 
who  had  ever  any  reason  to  complain  of  his  conduct. 
He  would  wait  upon  any  of  my  friends,  to  whom  I  should 
think  fit  to  send  him,  and  do  all  in  his  power  to  make 
matters  easy;  '  and  if  you  please,  sir,  you  are  welcome 
to  come  down  into  the  parlor  and  breakfast  with  me.' 
And  pray,  my  good  lady,  where  are  you  to  get  your  pay  ? 
*  O,  I  will  trust  to  that,  sir;  I  am  sure  you  are  a  gentle- 
man; do,  sir,  come  down  and  breakfast;  you  will  be 
better  after  breakfast.  Bless  your  soul,  sir,  why  there 
have  been  hundreds,  who  settled  their  affairs,  and  did 
very  well  afterwards.'  I  was  prevailed  upon  to  go  down 
to  breakfast.  There  was,  in  the  centre  of  the  entry,  a 
door  half  way  up,  with  long  pikes;  every  window  was 
barred  with  iron;  escape  was  impossible j  and  indeed  I 
had  no  wish  to  escape :  a  kind  of  mournful  insensibility 
pervaded  my  soul,  for  which  I  was  not  then  disposed  to 
account,  but  which  I  have  since  regarded  as  an  instance 
of  divine  goodness,  calculated  to  preserve  my  little 
remains  of  health,  as  well  as  that  reason,  which  had 
frequently  tottered  in  its  seat.  To  the  impertinent  prattle 
of  the  female  turnkey  I  paid  no  attention,  but,  hastily 
swallowing  a  cup  of  tea,  I  retired  to  my  prison.  This 
irritated  her;  she  expected  I  would  have  tarried  below, 
and  as  is  the  custom,  summoned  my  friends,  who,  whether 
they  did  any  thing  for  my  advantage  or  not,  would,  by 
calling  for  punch,  wine,  &c  &c.,  unquestionably  contrib- 
ute to  the  advantage  of  the  house.     But  as  I  made  no 


124  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

proposal  of  this  kind,  nor  indeed  ever  intended  so  to  do, 
they  saw  it  was  improbable  they  should  reap  any  benefit 
by  or  from  me;  and  having  given  me  a  plentiful  share  of 
abuse,  and  appearing  much  provoked  that  they  could  not 
move  me  to  anger,  they  were  preparing  to  carry  me  to 
Newgate,  there  to  leave  me  among  other  poor,  desperate 
debtors;  and  theiri determination  being  thus  fixed,  I  was 
at  liberty  to  continue  in  my  gloomy  apartment,  and,  what 
I  esteemed  an  especial  favor,  to  remain  there  uninter- 
rupted. I  received  no  invitation  either  to  dinner,  tea,  or 
supper;  they  just  condescended  to  inform  me,  when  they 
came  to  lock  me  in,  that  I  should  have  another  lodging 
the  ensuing  night;  to  which  I  made  no  reply.  My 
spirits,  however,  sunk  in  the  prospect  of  Newgate. 
There,  I  was  weU  informed,,  I  could  not  be  alone;  there, 
I  knew,  my  associates  would  many  of  them  be  atrocious 
offenders,  and  I  was  in  truth  immeasurably  distressed. 
It  was  now,  that  every  argument,  which  I  had  ever  read 
in  favor  of  suicide,  was  most  officiously  obtruded  upon 
my  mind,  and  warmly  impressed  upon  my  imagination. 
It  was  stated,  that  my  Almighty  Father  could  not  be 
angry  with  me  for  leaving  such  a  world,  in  such,  circum- 
stances; the  opposition  of  reason  seemed  to  result  from 
the  prejudices  of  education;  ^  and,'  said  illusive  fancy, 
'  as  it  is  appointed  for  all  men  once  to  die,  to  do  that  to- 
day, which  I  may  do  to-morrow,  and  what  I  must  shortly 
do,  cannot  be  very  wrong.'  *  It  is  true,  my  monitor 
assured  me,  that  the  God,  who  had  created  me,  was  the 
only  proper  judge  of  the  exact  moment,  when  I  ought  to 
be  removed  out  of  time;  that  He  best  knew  what  benefit 
might  accrue  to  myself,  or  the  cgmm unity,  by  my  longer 
continuance  in  this  vale  of  tears;  yet  these  remarks,  with 
many  more  of  the  same  description,  were  not  sufficiently 
imposing  to  endow  me  with  resolution  still  to  '  abide  the 
pelting  of  the  pitiless  stormy'  and  I  determined  to  finish 
my  wretched  existence  before  the  dawning  of  another 
morning.  This  was  indeed  a  night  of  horror;  but,  in  the 
moment  of  executing  my  fatal,  my  God-dishonoring 
purpose,  the  image  of  my  Eliza,  irradiating  the  prison 
walls,  seemed  to  stand  before  me.     She  appeared  as  if 

*  The  author  here  alludes  to  a  passage,  than  which  no  one  is  more 
frequently  misquoted,  or  misapplied.  The  text  from  which  this  is 
taken  is  Heb.  ix.  27,  which  ought  always  to  be  read  in  connexion  with 
the  three  preceding  verses,  and  the  one  following.  Should  this  be 
done,  it  would  evidently  appear  that  the  apostle  was  speaking  of  the 
death  of  the  high  priest '  by  blood  of  others,'  and  not  of  the  death 
which  is  the  common  lot  of  all  mankind.     Compare  it  with  Chap.  vii. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    3IUliRAY.  123 

commissioned  by  Heaven  to  soothe  my  tortured  spirit. 
I  prostrated  myself  before  tiie  perhaps  imaginary  vision, 
and,  for  the  first  moment  since  1  had  occupied  this  dreary 
abode,  my  heart  softened,  and  a  shower  of  tears  came  to 
my  relief;  yea,  and  I  was  relieved.  My  soul  became 
calm,  and  although  every  hope  from  this  world  was 
extinct  in  my  bosom,  yet  I  believed  I  should  be  better 
able  to  accommodate  myself,  to  whatever  sufferings  the 
Almighty  might  think  proper  to  inflict.  I  passed  the 
remainder  of  the  night  iii  endeavoring  to  fortify  my 
mind;  a  pleasing  melancholy  took  possession  of  my  spirit. 
I  drew  consolation  from  remembering,  the  time  of  suf- 
fering was  not  long;  that  there  was  a  rest,  a  life  of 
uninterrupted  felicity  beyond  the  grave;  that  of  this  rest, 
this  life,  no  power  on  the  earth  could  deprive  me;  and 
that  I  ought  therefore  quietly  to  wait,  and  patiently  to 
hope,  for  the  salvation  of  my  God.  Thus,  although  my 
night  had  been  sleepless,  my  mind  became  so  calm,  and 
my  spirit  so  greatly  refreshed,  that  when  the  keeper 
opened  the  door  in  the  morning,  to  inform  me,  that  in 
three  hours  he  should  lodge  me  in  Newgate,  I  answered 
with  unaffected  composure :  I  am  ready,  sir. 

In  less  than  an  hour,  however,  I  had  a  new  source  of 
inquietude.  My  brother,  William  Neale,  having  received 
a  hint  of  the  arrest,  had  searched  from  place  to  place, 
until  at  length  finding  me,  with  tears  of  sympathy  he 
reproached  me,  even  in  the  presence  of  the  woman,  for 
not  immediately  summoning  him  to  my  relief.  This 
female  turnkey,  observing  the  appearance  of  my  brother, 
and  the  feeling  manner,  in  which  he  addressed  me,  began 
to  hope,  notwithstanding  what  she  had  termed  my  ob- 
stinacy, that  they  should  reap  some  benefit  from  me  after 
all.  '  Why,'  said  William,  '  did  you  not  send  for  me 
immediately  upon  your  entering  this  house;'  'Ay,  dear 
sir,  so  I  said:  why,  dear  sir,  said  I,  cannot  you  send  for 
some  of  your  friends?  for  I  know'd  as  how,  the  gentle- 
man had  many  friends,  and  my  husband  would  have 
gone  himself  to  any  part  of  the  town,  with  all  his  soul. 
No  one  can  ever  say,  that  we  were  backward,  in  doing 
every  thing  in  our  power  to  serve  and  oblige  every  gentle- 
man that  ever  catne  into  our  house:  and,  though  I  say  it, 
that  should  not  say  it,  I  believe  there  is  not  a  house,  in 
our  way,  in  London,  that  has  ever  had  more  good  people 
in  it,  as  a  body  may  say,  than  ours;  and,  says  I,  Lord, 
sir,  says  I,  you  need  not  for  to  make  yourself  uneasy;  it 
is  no  crime,  says  I,  to  be  in  difficulty,  or  the  like  of  that; 
the  best  people  in  the  world,  says  I,  are  in  the  greatest 


126  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

difficulties^  says  I;  I  am  sure,  I  have  had  my  share  of 
troubles  and  difficulties  in  this  vt^orld,  says  I;  but  I  had 
better,  says  I,  have  them  here,  than  in  a  w^orse  place;  I 
hope,  1  shall  atone  for  all  my  sins  here.'  Thus  did  this 
creature's  tongue  run,  and  would  have  continued  so  to  do, 
had  not  my  brother  asked,  if  I  had  breakfastiid?  'Ay, 
sir,  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  something  of  that.  The 
poor  gentleman  has  not  seemed  to  care  anything  about 
eating  or  drinking:  for  my  part,  I  was  frightened,  in  the 
dread  of  the  poor  gentleman's  dying*  in  the  house;  I 
would  have  urged  him  over  and  over  again;  but  said  I, 
may  be  he  will  think  as  how,  that  I  mean  my  own  inter- 
est, and  so  I  did  not  care  to  say  much  about  it;  but,  sir, 
the  poor  gentleman  can't  think  you  have  any  interest.' 
'Get  breakfast,  ma'am.'  'Tea  or  coffee,  gentleman.'" 
'  Both,  ma'am,  and,  do  you  hear,  let  us  have  a  private 
room.'  'Yes,  sir.'  When  left  alone,  my  friend,  and 
brother,  again  reproached  me  for  delaying  my  communi- 
cations to  him.  I  frankly  told  him,  that  I  was  so  far  from 
being  disposed  to  solicit  his  aid,  that  I  seriously  regretted 
he  had  discovered  me;  that  I  had  no  wish  to  involve 
my  friends  in  my  difficulties;  that  I  would  much  rather 
continue  a  prisoner,  for  the  remainder  of  my  life,  than 
incur  obligations,  which  I  had  no  prospect  of  discharging. 
'  Poh,  poh,'  said  he,  '  this  is  idle  talk.  You  cannot 
believe,  you  would  be  the  only  sufferer  from  your  continu- 
ing endurance.'  But  I  should  not  suffer  long.  '  You 
know  not  how  long,  however,  drop  the  subject,  here  is 
breakfast;  sit  you  down,  and  let  us  breakfast  together; 
we  will  resume  our  subject  by  and  by.'  Ye&,  William, 
we  will  resume  our  subject,  by  and  by;  but  suffer  me  to 
observe,  you  shall  not  come  under  bonds  on  my  account, 
neither  shall  you  discharge  my  debts;  consent  to  this 
stipulation,  or  I  touch  no  breakfast.  'Pshaw,  pshaw, 
how  whimsical;  but  eat  your  breakfast,  man:  I  promise, 
I  will  do  neither.'  We  then  breakfasted  in  peace, and  I 
derived  a  mournful  kind  of  pleasure,  from  the  assurance, 
that  I  should  not  involve  the  brother  of  Eliza  in  my  ruin. 
But,  how  great  was  my  astonishment,  when  he  ordered 
in  the  officer,  who  was  also  master  of  the  house,  when, 
after  demanding  and  discharging  his  bill,  he  produced  a 
receipt  in  full  from  my  creditor,  and  a  complete  discharge 
for  me.  Thus  was  I  liberated  from  the  fangs  of  these 
harpies,  and  I  accompanied  this  commisserating  brother 
to  his  hospitable  mansion,  where  he  related  to  me  the 
means,  by  which  he  had  discovered  me. 

Quitting  this  noble-minded  friend,  I  hastened  home  to 
nay  suffering  mother,  who  was  in  agonies  on  my  account; 


XIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  l27 

ignorant  where  I  was,  or  what  was  my  situation,  her 
apprehensions  were  of  the  most  fearful  kind.     We  ming- 
led our  tears,  while  she  most  affectionately  endeavored 
to  soothe  me,  and  to  bind  up  my  broken  heart;  but  my 
only  remaining  hope  was,  that,  in  this  distempered  state, 
I  had  not  long  to  suffer.     But,  alas!  here  also  I  was 
deceived;  long,  very  long  have  I  continued,  and  with 
heart-felt  sorrow,  to  tread  this  thorny  maze.     The  broth- 
ers of  my  departed  angel  combined  to  help  me  forward; 
many  plans  were  proposed  for  me;  a  sum  of  money  was 
hired  to  place  me,  as  a  partner,  in  a  mercantile  house, 
and  my  brothers  were    my  bondsmen !    I  detested    the 
thought  of  new  prospects  from  such  a  world  as  this,  but, 
to  my  beloved  William,  I  was  largely  in  debt;  he  had  a 
growing  family,  and  both  gratitude,  as  well  as  justice, 
demanded  I  should  make  every  offort  for  his  remunera- 
tion.    Thus    I    again    became   a  melancholy  man    of 
business.     It  was  supposed  the  road,  not  only  to  com- 
petency, but  to  affluence,  was  open  before  me,  and  I 
was  pronounced  in  flourishing  circumstances.     It  was,  for 
those  who   loved  me,  a  pleasing  dream;  but  soon  the 
golden  vision  vanished,  and  I  awoke  to  the  certainty  of 
its  being  no  more  than  a  dream. 

Again  I  returned  to  my  lonely  dwelling;  pleased  with 
the  thought,  that  my  solitude  would  no  more  be  inter- 
rupted;   again  I   detested  the  world,  and   all   which  it 
could   bestow.     Thus  a  few  more   melancholy  months 
rolled  mournfully  away,  and  I  expected  to  finish  my  days 
in  the  retirement,  to  which  I  was  devoted.     One  con- 
sideration, however,  still  pressed  heavily  upon  my  mind. 
The  very  consideraljle  sums,  for  which  I  was  indebted  to 
my  generous  brother,  was,  to  me,  a  mighty  burden;  and 
this  beloved  brother,  availing  himself  of  my  anxiety  on 
this  account,  once  more  set  me  afloat.     Many  were  the 
efforts,  to  which  I    consented;  great  were    my  mental 
sacrifices.     But  one  expedient  remained;  it  was  a  mourn- 
ful expedient.     I  will  not  delineate;     I  pause;  I  throw  a 
veil  over  many  revolving  months;  let  it  suffice  to  say, 
my  purpose  was  gained,  my  debts  were  paid,  my  pecuni- 
ary circumstances  easy;  but  this  was  alL     How  mysteri- 
ous are  the  ways  of  heaven !  how  many  torturing  scenes 
I  have  passed  through!     But,  blessed  be  God,  I  have 
passed  through  them.     Thanks    be  to    the    Father    of 
mercies,  they  can  no  more  be  reiterated:  My  newly  ac- 
quired competency  possessed  no  charms  for  me;  I  derived 
no  satisfaction  from  anything  around  me.     In  fact,  I  had 
nothing  in  prospect,  and  hope  seemed  to  have  expired  in 
my  bosom. 


128  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 


CHAPTER  V, 

The  bereaved  man,  quitting  his  native  shores,  embarke 
for  America;  indulging  the  fond  hope  of  sequestering  him- 
self in  the  solitude,  for  which  he  sighed.  But  contrary 
to  his  expectations,  a  series  of  circumstances  combine  to 
produce  him  a  Promulgator  of  the  Gospel  of  God^  our 
Saviour. 

Death's  sable  pall  o'er  all  my  pleasures  thrown, 
My  native  isle  to  me  a  desert  grown ; 
Sad  and  forlorn,  to  the  new  world  I  fled, 
Amid  its  wilds  to  shield  my  widowed  head. 

.  Having,  as  has  been  described,  laid  the  companion  of 
my  youth,  the  w^ife  of  my  bosom,  in  the  grave;  my  spirit 
still  hovered  round  her  tomb.  It  has  been  seen,  that  my 
life  seemed  devoted  to  misery;  that  I  wept  at  all  times, 
except  when  I  turned  my  attention  to  that  bright  world, 
upon  which,  I  imagined,  I  was  verging;  that  I  wished  the 
act  of  putting  a  period  to  a  weary  life  had  ranked  among 
the  Christian  virtues;  that  I  never  more  passionately 
longed  for  any  good,  than  for  the  period,  which  was  to 
put  an  end  to  my  existence;  that  I  had  but  few  acquaint- 
ance, that  I  wished  not  to  form  new  connexions;  that  I 
was  sick  of  the  world,  and  all  which  it  could  bestow;  that 
the  retirement  of  my  lonely  dwelling  was  most  acceptable 
to  me;  that  I  abhorred  the  thought  of  expecting  any  thing 
like  happiness  in  this  world;  and,  that  I  thus  passed 
weeks  and  months,  verily  believing,  that  I  should  thus 
finish  my  days,  which,  I  cherished  a  soothing  hope,  would 
soon  be  numbered. 

Through  those  sad  scenes  of  sorrow,  to  which  I  was 
condemned,  I  had  one  friend,  one  earthly  friend,  from 
whom  I  derived  real  consolation.  This  friend  was  Mr, 
Jarnes  Relly,  the  man  who  had  been  made  an  instrument, 
in  the  hand  of  God,  of  leading  me  into  an  acquaintance 
with  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  This  kind  friend  often 
visited  me;  and  in  conversing  with  him,  I  found  my 
heart  lightened  of  its  burden;  I  could  better  bear  the 
pitiless  storm,  that  beat  upon  me,  when  strengthened  by 
the  example  of  this  son  of  sorrow;  we  frequently  con- 
versed upon  the  things  of  the  kingdom,  and  Mr.  Relly, 
observing  my  heart  much  warmed  and  enlarged  by  these 
subjects,  urged  me  to  go  forth,  and  make  mention  of 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  129 

the  loving-kindness  of  God.  No,  no,  I  constantly  replied, 
it  is  not  my  design  again  to  step  forth  in  a  public  charac- 
ter. I  have  been  a  promulgator  of  falsehood.  '  And  why 
not,'  he  would  interrupt,  '  a  promulgator  of  truth?  Sure- 
ly you  owe  this  atonement  to  the  God,  who  hath  irrad- 
iated your  understanding  by  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance.' But  no  argument,  he  made  use  of,  was  suf- 
ficiently strong  to  excite  in  my  bosom  a  single  wish,  that 
I  had  either  inclination  or  capability,  for  a  character  so 
arduous;  my  heart's  desire  was  to  pass  through  life, 
unheard,  unseen,  unknown  to  all,  as  though  I  ne'er  had 
been.  I  had  an  aversion  to  society,  and,  since  I  could 
not  be  permitted  to  leave  the  world,  I  was  solicitous  to 
retire  from  its  noise  and  its  nonsense;  I  was  indeed  a 
burden  to  myself  and  no  advantage  to  any  body  else; 
every  place,  every  thing  served  to  render  me  more  mis- 
erable, for  they  led  my  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  past 
scenes,  of  scenes  never  more  to  return.  Such  was  the 
situation  of  my  mind,  when,  at  the  house  of  one  of  Mr. 
Relly's  hearers,  I  accidentally  met  a  gentleman  from 
America.  I  listened  with  attention  to  his  account  of  the 
country,  in  which  he  had  so  long  resided;  I  was  charmed 
with  his  description  of  its  extent,  its  forests,  its  lakes, 
its  rivers;  its  towns  its  inhabitants,  the  liberty  they  en- 
joyed, and  the  peace  and  plenty,  which  they  possessed; 
I  listened  to  every  thing  with  astonishment;  and  I  turned 
toward  the  new  world  my  most  ardent  wishes.  I  com- 
municated my  desire  to  visit  America  to  my  mother,  to 
my  brethren.  I  was  ridiculed  for  entertaining  a  project 
so  chimerical.  "What,  ci  oas  ihe  Atlantic !  For  what 
purpose?  To  whom  would  I  go?  What  could  I  do? 
What  object  could  I  have  in  view?  I  was  unable  to 
answer  any  of  these  questions;  I  had  not  a  single  acquaint- 
ance in  America,  indeed  I  had  no  wish  to  make  ac- 
quaintance; I  had  nothing  in  prospect,  but  a  kind  of 
negative  happiness;  I  did  not  mean  to  commence  a  voy- 
age in  pursuit  of  bliss,  but  to  avoid,  if  possible,  a  part  of 
my  misery. 

My  mind  for  a  considerable  time  labored  with  my  pur- 
pose; many  difficulties  interposed,  I  would  infinitely  have 
prefered  entering  that  narrow  house  which  is  appointed 
for  all  livingj  but  this  I  was  not  permitted  to  do;  and  I  con- 
ceived, to  quit  England  and  to  retire  to  America,  was  the 
next  thing  to  be  desired.  Nights  and  days  of  deliberation 
at  length  convinced  my  judgment,  and  I  was  determined  to 
depart  for  the  new  world.  My  few  friends  urged  me  most 
eaiAestly  to  let  them  apply  to  those,  who  had  connexions 


iSO  LITE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

in  America,  for  letters  of  introduction,  or  recommendation' 
No,  by  no  means,  this  would  most  eifectually  defeat  my 
purpose;  I  would  rather  not  go,  than  go  thus.  My  ob- 
ject Avas  to  close  my  life  in  solitude,  in  the  most  complete 
retirement  and  with  those  views  I  commenced  prepara- 
tions for  my  voyage.  I  visited  the  brother  of  my  departed 
wife,  and  1  beheld  both  him,  and  his  children,  with  the 
same  eyes  a  dying  person  would  have  beheld  them;  tears 
frequently  stole  down  my  face,  and  a  thousand  thoughts 
that  served  to  harrow  up  my  soul,  crowded  upon  me. 
I  was  determined  not  to  repeat  this  scene,  and  I  bid  them 
adieu;  could  I  have  done  this  upon^a  bed  of  death,  how 
much  happier  should  I  have  been ! 

The  place  I  now  occupied,  to  which  I  had  recently 
removed,,  was  extremely  beautiful;  it  was  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Londonv  I  had  a  fine  garden,  and  a  delight- 
ful prospect;  but  my  better  self  had  fled  this  globe,  and 
with  her  fled  my  soul's  calm  sunshine  every  heart-felt 
joy.  I  was,  as  I  have  frequently  said,  extremely  wretch- 
ed; I  spake  to  the  master  of  a  vessel,  bound  to  New- 
York;  I  agreed  for  my  passage;  my  heart  trembled;  it 
was  worse  than  death.  He  fixed  the  time  for  my  de- 
parture; every  arrangement  was  made.  My,  brother,, 
my  widowed  mother,  I  met  them,  in  my  parlor;  it  was 
torturing.  '  Sit  down,  my  son,'  said  my  weeping  parent;^ 
my  brother  appeared  a  silent  spectacle  of  sorrow :  *  I 
know  you  my  child,  too  well  to  expect  I  can  alter  your 
resolution;  it  is  now  too  late  to  beseech  you  to  reflect; 
1  know  vou  have  long  reflected,  and  I  am  astonished  to  find 

you    still  deterniiiied.      You   havo    a   charxuhig  situation;. 

your  prospects  are  good;  could  you  but  make  your  mind 
easy,  you  might  still  be  happy;  why,  then,  this  aversion 
to  life  ?'  I  interrupted  her,  by  declaring,  that  the  whole 
world  would  not,  could  not  detain  me  longer  in  England; 
yet  I  passionately  loved  my  country,  and  my  few  remain- 
ing friends  shared  the  best  aflections  of  my  heart.  This 
voluntary  exile  was  worse  than  death;  but  I  was  impelled 
to  go,  and  go  I  must.  My  poor  mother  threw  her  fond  arms 
about  my  neck:  Once  more,'  said  she  'you  leave  me, 
but  not  now,  as  before,  then  you  left  me  in  my  native 
place,  among  my  natural  connexions;  then  too  I  had  hope 
you  would  again  be  restored  to  me — but  now'— and  she 
burst  into  tears;  my  heart  was  agonized.  I  entreated 
her  to  consider  me  as  on  the  bed  of  death.  Nor  again 
to  think  of  me,  as  of  a  living  son.  Be  thankful  my  mother, 
be  thankful  it  is  no  worse;  be  thankful  I  have  not  fallen 
a  victim  to  the  despondency  of  my  spirit.     I  leave  you 


LIFE    OF    REV,    JOHN    MURRAY.  181 

with  your  children,  with  children  kind  and  dutiful;  and, 
what  is  better  than  all,  I  leave  you  in  the  hands  and  under 
the  care  of  a  kind  God,  who  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave 
you,  nor  forsake  you.  '  But  shall  I  hear  from  you,  my 
son?^  Do  not,  I  entreat  of  you,  think  of  me,  as  living; 
I  go  to  bury  myself  in  the  wilds  of  America;  no  one  shall 
hear  from  me,  nor  of  me.  I  have  done  with  the  world; 
and,  prostrating  myself  in  the  presence  of  my  mother 
and  my  God,  with  streaming  eyes,  and  supplicating  hands, 
I  commended  my  soul,  and  all  who  were  connected  with 
me,  or  allied  to  me,  to  that  Being,  who  orders  all  things 
according  to  his  own  good  pleasure, 

I  left  my  mother  in  an  agony  of  affliction,  and  retired, 
but  not  to  rest.  My  baggage  had  been  sent  on  board  ship 
in  the  morning,  and,  accompanied  by  my  brother,  we  took 
a  boat  and  passed  down  to  Grave's-End,  where  I  en- 
tered on  board  the  vessel,  that  was  to  convey  me  to 
America,  which,  in  my  then  judgment,  was  tantamount 
to  quitting  the  world. 

The  vessel,  however  did  not  sail  immediately;  I  had 
an  opportunity  of  going  on  shore  again,  and  spending 
some  time  at  Grave's-End.  Fond  of  being  alone,  I  as- 
cended a  lofty  eminence,  and  sat  me  down  under  the 
shade  of  a  wide  spreading  tree;  here  I  had  leisure,  and 
inclination  for  reflection.  On  one  hand,  I  beheld  the 
wide  ocean,  my  path  to  the  new  world;  on  the  other,  the 
Thames,  upon  the  silvery  surface  of  which,  many  were 
passing  to  London.  My  mind  rapidly  run  over  the  vari- 
ous scenes  I  had  witnessed,  since  my  arrival  in  that  great 
city,  I  dwelt  upon  the  good  I  had  lost,  never  more  to  be 
recovered.  My  soul  sickened  at  the  recollection  of  my 
heavy  bereavement,  of  the  solitary  situation,  to  which  I 
was  reduced,  I  was  going  from  a  world  in  which  I  had 
some  associates,  and  some  friends,  into  a  country  where 
every  individual  was  unknown  to  me !  I  was  going  on 
board  a  vessel,  to  the  crew  of  which  I  was  an  utter  stran- 
ger— all  gloomy — truly  gloomy.  One  idea  however  con- 
tinued my  abiding  consolation,  I  might  soon  finish  my 
course,  and  bid  an  eternal  adieu  to  sorrow  of  every  descrip- 
tion. Yet  I  trembled  at  what  was  before  me;  I  was  fear- 
ful I  was  wrong.  Just  at  this  period  the  wind  shifted,  the 
signal  was  made  for  sailing;  but  before  I  descended  the  em- 
inence, I  once  more  threw  my  eyes  upon  the  surrounding 
scenes.  I  felt  destitute  and  forlorn;  tears  gushed  in  my 
eyes.  My  domestic  felicity,  my  social  connexions,  the 
pleasure  I  had  derived  from,  listening  to  the  testimony  of 
truth  these  all  rushed  upon  my  recollection,  with  subduinf 


132  LIFE    OP    REV»   JOHN    MURRAY. 

power;  I  prostrated  myself  upon  the  ground,  with  stream- 
ing eyes  exclaiming:  Oh,  thou  dear  parent  earth,  thou 
much  loved  native  soil,  why  not  open,  and  give  me  a 
quiet  resting  place  in  thy  bosom.  Oh !  thou  dear,  de- 
parted friend  of  my  soul,  hast  thou  no  power  to  loose 
these  chains,  that  bind  me  to  this  state  of  being.  Is 
there  no  eye  to  pity,  no  hand  to  help  a  wretched  outcast.'* 
can  I  not  be  indulged  with  death  ?  But  death  comes  not 
at  call.  In  this  situation  I  continued  bedewing  the  earth 
with  my  tears,  until  it  pleased  the  kind  God  to  s^eak 
peace  to  my  tortured  heart,  and  I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice 
calling  unto  me,  Be  of  good  cheer,  your  God  is  with 
you,  He  will  never  leave  you,  nor  forsake  you;  He  is  in 
the  wide  waste,  as  in  the  full  city.  Be  not  afraid,  when 
thou  passest  through  the  waters 'j  I  will  he  with  thee, 
fear  no  evil;  the  friend  of  sinners  will  he  with  thee,  and 
make  thy  way  plain  before  thee;  He  will  cause  the  desert 
to  hlossom  as  the  rose.  The  young  lions  cry,  and  thy 
heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Thou  art  nearer  and 
dearer  to  thy  heavenly  Father,  than  all  the  inhahitants  of 
the  deep,  than  all  the  tenants  of  the  forest.  Thus  did 
the  spirit  of  grace  and  consolation  comfort  my  afflicted 
heart,  so  that,  after  bidding  an  affectionate  adieu  to  the 
scenes  of  the  morning  and  meridian  of  my  days;  after 
taking  what  I  believed  an  eternal  leave  of  my  native 
soil,  of  my  friends,  and  relatives;  after  dropping  many 
tears  to  the  memory  of  each;  and,  last  of  all  to  the  ashes 
of  my  dear  self;  with  an  aching  head,  a  pained  heart, 
and  eyes  swelled  by  weeping,  on  Saturday  evening,  July 
twenty-first,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  seventy,  I  hastened  on  board  the  brig 
'  Hand  in  hand;'  and,  upon  the  ensuing  morning,  as  we 
passed  round  Beachy  Head,  I  beheld  the  white  cliffs  of 
Albion.  No  language  can  describe  my  sensations,  as 
those  white  cliffs  receded  from  my  view,  as  I  took  a  last 
look  of  England!  I  retired  to  my  cabin,  covered  my 
face,  and  wept  until  I  was  completely  exhausted.  But 
God  was  pleased  to  lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance 
upon  me;  my  voyage  passed  more  pleasantly,  than  I  had 
calculated,  and  I  was  the  happy  instrument  of  contribut- 
ing to  the  comfort  of  many  on  board.  I  was  not  sick 
upon  the  passage;  I  became  more  than  reconciled  to  my 
circumstances,  and  I  almost  dreaded  the  thought  of  reach- 
ing my  destined  port. 

I  did  not  anticipate  my  fate  upon  my  arrival;  I  had  de- 
termined upon  nothing,  and  yet  I  was  not  distressed;  a 
perfect  indifference  pervaded  my  souL     I  had  in  my 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  ISB 

trunks  many  articles  of  clothing,  more  than  T  should 
want;  for  I  did  not  calculate  upon  being  many  years  an 
inhabitant  of  this  globe.  I  had  some  money,  I  had  my 
Bible,  and  a  very  large  collection  of  the  letters  of  my 
Eliza,  in  which  I  took  much  delight;  nnd,  upon  the 
whole,  I  fimcicd  myself  rather  rich,  than  otherwise. 
In  this  state  of  resignation,  indifference,  or  insensibility , 
I  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  voyage. 

As  we  drew  near  the  coast  of  America,  I  experienced 
none  of  those   delightful  sensations,   which   swelled  my 
bosom,  a  few  years  before,  oii  returning  to  England  from 
Ireland;  neither  did  I  experience  those  terrifying  appre- 
hensions, for  which  there  was  such  abundant  reason,  on 
advancing   to  an  unknown  country,  without  patron,  or 
friend.     Sly  mind  was  calm  and  unruffled,  neither  elated 
by  hope,  nor  depressed  by  fear      I  had  obtained  precisely 
that  situation,  for  which  I  had  supplicated  heaven,  when 
entering  upon  this  untried  state  of  being,  humbly  depend- 
ing upon  that  God,  who  was  in  every  place  the  same  un- 
changeing  friend  of  the  creature,  whom  he  had  made.     I 
was,  as  it  were,  between  two  worlds;  one  I  had  tried, 
and,  finding  it  contained  more  of  bitter,  than  of  sweet,  I 
had  turned  from  it  with  disgust.     I  advanced  toward  the 
other,  without  high  raised  expectations,  without  fearful 
apprehensions.     I  was  pleased  with  the  wonders  of  my 
God,  as  I  beheld  them  in  the  great  deep;  I  was  amazed 
at  the  variety  of  its  inhabitants,  yet  how  small  a  part 
could  I  trace.     I  was  astonished  at  the  number  of  birds, 
flitting  over  the  ocean;  and  I  thought  if  provision  was 
made  for  them,  I  had  no  reason  for  fear.     On  a  brilliant 
moonlight  evening,  our  ship  struck  on  something,  which 
threw  us  off  our  seats!     What  could  it  be?  we  were  in 
the  centre  of  the  Western  ocean.     We  soon  discovered  it 
was  a  sleeping  whale;  we  also  beheld  the  water-spout,  so 
often   described,   as   a   surprising   phenomenon.      Thus 
was  my  wondering  mind  beguiled  of  its  sorrows.    We  saw 
a  number  of  vessels  on  our  way,  some  passing  to  the  coun- 
try we  had  left;  my  heart  sighed,  as  they  pursued  their 
course,  and  I  frequently,   and  audibly  exclaimed,  Dear 
native  country,    never  more  to  be  seen  by  me !  nor  was 
the  exclamation  unaccompanied  by  a  tear. 

We  were,  as  it  was  supposed,  within  three  days  sail  of 
New  York,  when  we  met  a  vessel,  bound  for  England. 
Our  merchant  questioned  the  captain,  respecting  the  state 
of  public  affairs  in  America.  The  Americans  had,  some 
time  before,  entered  into  the  non-importation  agreement, 
and  our  merchant  was  anxious,  on  account  of  the  goods 
12* 


134  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

he  had  on  board.  The  captaiu  assured  him,  they  had 
given  up  the  agreement  in  Philadelphia,  but  that  they 
zealously  adhered  to  it  in  New  York.  Our  captain, 
therefore,  received  immediate  orders,  to  change  the  course 
of  the  vessel  for  Philadelphia;  but  when  we  had  got  near 
enough  to  this  harbor  to  take  a  pilot,  the  pilot  informed 
us,  the  reverse  of  the  information  we  had  received  was 
the  truth;  upon  which  the  merchant  determined  to  go  as 
far  as  the  city,  there  obtain  a  certainty,  and  if  so,  to  pro- 
ceed to  New  York,  with  all  possible  despatch.  We  were 
a  considerable  time  passing  up  the  Delaware,  and,  upon 
a  fine  day,  while  we  lay  at  anchor,  the  merchant  pro- 
posed going  on  shore,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  corn 
and  fruit. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  September,  when  we  arrived  in 
the  Delaware :  the  country,  upon  the  banks  of  this  fine 
river,  exhibited  a  most  enchanting  appearance,  especial- 
ly to  those,  who  had  been  for  many  weeks  out  of  sight  of 
land,  and  had  never  seen  those  shores  before.  As  we 
drew  near  the  land,  the  woods,  seeming  to  grow  out  of 
the  water,  had  to  me  a  very  uncommon  appearance;  but 
every  thing,  in  this  country,  was  uncommon.  We  went 
on  shore,  and  ascended  a  gentle  acclivity,  when,  entering 
into  a  small  log-house,  I  was  astonished  to  see  a  woman 
preparing  some  excellent  wild  ducks  for  dinner;  live  in  a 
log-house,  and  feed  upon  ducks!  We  passed  into  her 
garden,  where,  amid  its  rich  variety,  my  attention  was 
arrested  by  a  large  peach-tree,  loaded  with  the  best  fruit, 
bending  to  the  earth !  I  was  beyond  expression  charmed, 
and  delighted,  and  my  heart  beat  with  grateful  affection 
to  the  universal  Parent,  for  giving  the  inhabitants  of  this 
new  world  thus  liberally  to  enjoy.  When  we  reached 
Philadelphia,  I  was  amazed  to  behold  a  city  of  such  mag- 
nitude, in  a  country,  which  I  had  considered,  as  a  wilder 
ness.  The  captain  supposed  it  a  disappointment  to  me, 
that  we  had  not  put  into  New  York,  as  that  was  the 
place  of  my  destination;  I  requested  him  to  make  himself 
easy,  as  it  was  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  me 
upon  what  part  of  the  country  I  landed;  and,  if  he  could 
procure  me  a  private  lodging,  I  would  go  on  shore  in  this 
city.  This  he  told  me  he  Would  do,  but  this  he  could 
not  do,  at  least  in  the  circle  of  his  connexions.  Pe  then 
proposed  my  going,  by  land,  to  New  York.  This  also  I 
was  willing  to  do,  if  he  would  let  me  know  how.  He 
would  send  and  take  me  a  place  in  the  stage.  The  stage 
had  been  gone  some  time.  He  then  proposed  I  should 
tarry  in  the  vessel,  and  set  out  with  him  the  next  morning 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURKAY.  135 

for  New  York,  to  which  arrani^einent  I  agreed.     The 
other  passengers   left  us   in  Phihidelphia.      The  water 
was  smooth,  and  our  passage  pleasant,  until  we  were,  as 
was  supposed,  near  Sandy-Hook;  a  dense  fog  then  arose, 
which  was  sufficiently  thick  to  prevent  our  seeing  the  end 
of  our  bowsprit.     A  sloop  shot  past  us,  and  we  inquired 
how  far  we  were  from  Sandy-Hook?     The  answer  was 
seventy  miles,  but  we  understood  seven,  and  we  pressed 
on,  and  in  a  few  moments  were  in  the  midst  of  the  break- 
ers; the  vessel  struck  upon  the  bar,  but  passed  over,  into 
a  place  we    afterwards   learned  was  called   Cranberry 
Inlet.     The  fog  now  dispersed,'  and  we  discovered  we 
were  nearly  on  shore;  our  anchors,  however,  saved  us; 
but  we  were  greatly  alarmed,  and  never  expected  to  get 
off  again.     The  sloop,  with  which  we  had  spoken,  en- 
tered this  Inlet  before  us,  and  was  light.     The  captain 
proposed  to  engage  this  sloop  to  receive  on  board  as 
much  of  our  cargo  as  she  could  contain:  thus,  by  lighten- 
ing his  ^  cssel,  to  give  himself  the  only  probable  chance 
of  getting  off.     This  was  effectuated,  and  night  coming 
on,  the  captain,  with  many  apologies,  requested  me  to 
lodge  on  board  the  sloop,  inasmuch  as  there  were  many 
valuable  articles,  which  he  was  afraid  to  trust,  without  a 
confidential  person.      To  this  I  readily  consented,  and 
taking  my  Bible,  and  ray  purse,  I   went  on  board  the 
sloop.      The  plan   of  the  captain  was,  supposing  the 
morning  should  present   no   prospect   of  getting  off,  to 
deposit  the  remainder  of  his  cargo  upon  the  beach;  but, 
if  they  should  get  off,  we  were  immediately  to  follow;  the 
goods  were  to  be  replaced;  and  the  sloop  dismissed.     I 
v/ent  not  to  bed,  and  when  the  morning  dawned,  just  at  " 
high  water,  the  wind  blowing  from  the  shore,  they  got 
.off,  making  a  signal  for  us  to  follow;  and  with  all  possi- 
ble despatch  we  prepared  to  obey,  but  the  wind  instantly 
shifting  drove  us  back,  and  they^  proceeded  on  to  New 
York,  leaving  us  in  the  bay. 

It  proved  upon  examination,  we  had  no  provisions  on 
board;  we  were,  therefore,  necessitated  to  lock  up  the 
vessel,  and  go  on  shore,  in  search  of  sustenance.  It  was 
the  after  part  of  the  day  before  we  could  effectuate  our 
purpose,  when  I  went  with  the  boatmen  to  a  tavern,  and 
leaving  them  there,  pursued  a  solitary  walk  through  the 
woods,  which  seemed  to  surround  this  place.  My  mind 
was  greatly  agitated;  I  was  now  in  the  new  world;  and  in 
just  such  a  part  of  this  new  world,  as  had  appeared  so 
desirable  in  prospect.  Here  I  was  as  much  alone,  as  I 
could  wish,  and  my  heart  exclaimed:  '  O,  thai  I  had  in 


136  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

this  wilderness,  the  lodging  place  of  a  poor  way-faring 
man;  some  cave,  some  grot,  someplace  where  I  might  finish 
w.y  days  in  calm  repose.  As  thus  I  passed  alone,  thus 
contemplating,  thus  supplicating;  I  unexpectedly  reached 
a  small  log-house,  and  saw  a  girl  cleaning  a  fresh  fish;  I 
requested  she  would  sell  it  to  me.  *  No,  sir,  you  will 
find  a  very  great  plenty  at  the  next  house;  we  want  this.' 
The  next  house,  what  this?  pointing  to  one  in  the  woods. 
'  O  no,  sir,  that  is  a  meeting-house.'  A  meeting-house 
here   in   these   woods?       I   was   exceedingly   surprised. 

*  You  must  pass  the  meeting-house,  sir;  and  a  little  way 
farther  on,  you  will  see  the  other  house,  where  you  will 
find  fish  enough.'  I  went  forward,  I  came  to  the  door; 
there  was  indeed  a  large  pile  offish  of  various  sorts,  and 
at  a  little  distance  stood  a  tall  man,  rough  in  appearance 
and  evidently  advanced  in  years:  Pray,  sir,  will  you  have 
the  goodness  to  sell  me  one  of  those  fish?  ^'  No,  sir.' 
That  is  strange,  when  you  have  so  many,  to  refuse  me  a 
single  fish!  'I  did  not  refuse  you  a  fish,  sir;  you  are 
welcome  to  as  many  as  you  please,  but  I  do  not  sell  this 
article;  I  do  not  sell  fish,  sir,  I  have  them  for  taking  up, 
and  you  may  obtain  them  the  same  way:'  I,  thanked 
him:  '  But,^  said  he,  ^  what  do  you  want  of  those  fish? ' 
I  informed  him,  that  the  mariners,  who  belonged  to  the 
sloop  at  a  distance,  were  at  a  tavern,  and  would  be  glad, 
if  I  could  procure  them  something  for  supper.  '  Well, 
«ir,  I  will  send  my  man  over  with  the  fish;  but  you  can 
tarry  here,  and  have  some  dressed  for  yourself.'  No,  sir, 
it  is  proper  I  should  see  how  they  are  accommodated. 

*  Well,  sir,  you  shall  do  as  you  please;  but,  after  supper, 
I  beg  you  would  return,  and  take  a  bed  with  us,  you  will 
be  better  pleased  here,  than  in  a  tavern.'  I  gratefully 
thanked  him,  and  cheerfully  accepted  his  offer.  I  was 
astonished"  to  see  so  much  genuine  politeness  and  urbani- 
ty, under  so  rough  a  form;  but  my  astonishment  was 
greatly  increased  on  my  return.  His  room  was  prepared, 
his  fire  bright,  and  his  heart  open.  '  Come,'  said  he, '  my 
friend,  I  am  glad  you  have  returned,  I  have  longed  to 
see  you,  I  have  been  expecting  you  a  long  time.'  I  was 
perfectly  amazed.  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  '  I  must  go 
on  my  own  way,  I  am  a  poor  ignorant  man,  I  neither 
know  how  to  read,  nor  write;  I  was  born  in  these  woods, 
and  my  father  did  not  think  proper  to  teach  me  my  let- 
ters. I  worked,  on  these  grounds,  until  I  became  a  man, 
when  I  went  coasting  voyages  from  hence  to  New  York. 
I  was  then  desirous  of  becoming  a  husband,  but,  in  going 

o  New  York,  I  was  pressed  on  board  a  man  of  war,  and  I 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  137  - 

was  taken,  in  admiral  Warren's  ship  to  Cape-Breton. 
I  never  drank  any  rum,  so  they  saved  my  allowance;  but 
I  would  not  bear  an  affront,  so  if  any  of  the  officers  struck 
me  I  struck  them  again,  but   the  admiral   took  my  part, 
called  me  his  new-light  man.     When  we  reached  Louis- 
bourg,  I  ran  away  and  travelled  barefooted  through  the 
country,  and  almost  naked,  to  New  York,  where  I  was 
known,  and  supplied  with  clothes  and  money,   and  soon 
returned  to  this  place,  when  I  found  my  girl  married; 
this  rendered  mc  very  unhappy,  but  I  recovered  my  tran- 
quillity and  married  her  sister.     I  sat  down  to  work;  got 
forward   very  fast;    constructed   a  saw-mill;    possessed 
myself  of  this  farm,  and  five  hundred  acres  of  adjoining 
land.     I  entered  into  navigation,  became  the  owner  of  a 
sloop,  and  have  got  together  a  large  estate.     I  am,  as  I 
said,  unable  either  to  write  or  read,  but  I  am  capable  of 
reflection;  the  sacred  scriptures  have  been  often  read  to 
me,  from  which  I  gather,  that  there  is  a  great  and  good 
Being,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  all  we  enjoy.     It  is 
this  great,  and  good  Being,  who  hath  preserved,  and  pro- 
tected me,  through  innumerable  dangers,  and,  as  He  had 
given  me  a  house  of  my  own,  I  conceived  I  could  not  do 
less  than  to  open  it  to  the  stranger,  let  him  be  who  he 
.  would;  and  especially,  if  a  travelling  minister  passed  this 
way,  he  always  received  an  invitation  to  put  up  at  my 
house,    and   hold   his  meetings   here.     I   continued   this 
practice  for  more  than  seven  yeai-s,  and,  illiterate  as  I 
was,  I  used  to  converse  with  them,  and  was  fond  of  ask- 
ing them  questions.     They  pronounced  me  an  odd  mortal, 
declaring  themselves  at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  me :  while 
I  continued  to  affirm,  that  I  had  but  one  hope;  I  believed, 
that  Jesus  Christ  suffered  death  for  my  transgressions, 
and  this  alone  was  sufficient  for  me.     At  length  my  wife 
grew  weary  of  having  meetings  held  in  her  house,  and  I 
determined  to  build  a  house  for  the  worship  of  God.     I 
had  no  children,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  beholden  to  Al- 
mighty God  for  every  thing,  which  I  possessed;  and  it 
seemed  right,  I  should  appropriate  a  part,  of  what  he  had 
bestowed,  for  His  service.     My  neighbors  offered  their 
assistance.     But  no,  said  I;  God  has  given  me  enough  to 
do  this  work,  without  your  aid,  and,  as  he  has  put  it  into 
my  heart  to  do,  so  I  will  do.     And  who,  it  was  asked, 
will  be  your  preacher  ?    I  answered,  God  will  send  me  a 
preacher,  and  of  a  very  different  stamp  from  those,  who 
have  heretofore  preached  in  my  house.     The  preachers, 
we  have  heard,  are  perpetually  contradicting  themselves; 
but  that  God,  who  has  put  it  into  my  heart  to  build  this 


13J  life    of    rev.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

house,  will  send  one,  who  shall  deliver  unto  me  his  own 
tnith^  who  s^hall  speak  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  salvation. 
When  the  house  was  finished,  I  received  an  application 
from  the  Baptists;  and  I  told  them,  if  they  could  make  it 
appear,  that  God  Aliiiiglity  v/as  a  Baptist,  the  building 
should  be  theirs  at  once.  The  Quakers,  and  Presbyteri- 
ans, received  similar  answers.  No,  sai;l  I,  as  I  hrmly 
believe,  that  all  mankind  are  equally  dear  to  Almighty 
God,  they  shall  all  be  equally  welcome  to  preach  in  this 
house,  which  I  Jiave  built.  My  neighbors  assured  me,  I 
never  should  see  a  preacher,  v/hose  sentiments  corres- 
ponded with  my  own;  but  my  uniform  reply  was,  that  I 
assuredly  should.  I  engaged,  the  first  year,  with  a  man, 
who  I  greatly  disliked;  vv'e  parted,  and,  for  some  years 
we  have  had  no  stated  minister.  My  friends  often  ask 
me,  '  Where  is  the  preacher,  of  whom  you  spake.'' '  And 
my  constant  reply  has  been.  He  will  by  and  by  make  his 
appearance.  The  moment  I  beheld  your  vessel  on  shore, 
it  seemed  as  if  a  voice  had  audibly  sounded  in  my  ears : 
There,  Potter,  in  that  vessel,  cast  away  on  that  shore,  is 
the  preacher,  you  have  been  so  long  expecting.  I  heard 
the  voice,  and  1  believed  the  report;  and  when  you  came 
up  to  my  door,  and  asked  for  the  fish,  the  same  voice 
•seemed  to  repeat:  Potter,  this  is  the  man,  this  is  the 
person,  whom  I  have  sent  to  preach  in  your  house  ! ' 

I  was  astonished,  immeasurably  astonished  at  Mr.  Pot- 
ter's narrative;  but  yet  I  had  not  the  smallest  idea  it 
could  ever  be  realized.  I  requested  to  know,  what.he  could 
discern  in  my  appearance,  which  could  lead  him  to  mis- 
take me  for  a  preacher?  '  What,'  said  he,  '  could  I  dis- 
cern, when  you  were  in  the  vessel,  that  could  induce  this 
conclusion.?  No,  sir,  it  is  not  what  I  saw,  or  see,  but 
what  I/ee/,  which  produces  in  my  mind  a  full  convic- 
tion.' 

But,  my  dear  sir,  you  are  deceived,  indeed  you  are 
deceived;  I  never  shall  preach  in  this  place,  nor  any- 
where else. 

'Have  you  never  preached.?  can  you  say  you  have 
never  preached.?'  I  cannot,  but  I  never  intend  to  preach 
again. 

'  Has  not  God  lifted  up  the  light  of  his  countenance 
upon  you?     Has  he  not  shown  you, his  truth?  ' 

I  trust  he  has. 

'And  how  dare  you  hide  this  truth?  Do  men  light  a 
candle  to  put  it  under  a  bushel?  If  God  has  shown  you 
his  salvation,  why  should  you  not  show  it  to  your  fellow 
men?  But  I  know,  that  you  will;  I  am  sure,  God  Almigh- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  139 

ty  has  sent  you  to  us  for  this  purpose;  I  am  not  deceived, 
1  am  sure  I  am  not  deceived.' 

1  was  terrified  as  the  man  thus  went  on;  and  I  began 
to  fear  that  God,  who  orders  all  things  according  to  the 
counsel  of  his  own  will,  had  ordained,  that  thus  it  should 
be,  and  my  heart  trembled  at  the  idea.  I  endeavored, 
however,  to  banish  my  own  fears,  and  to  silence  the 
^varm-hearted  man  by  observing,  that  I  was  in  the  place 
of  a  supercargo;  that  property  to  a  large  amount  had 
been  entrusted  to  my  care;  and  that,  the  moment  the 
wind  changed,  I  was  under  the  most  solemn  obligations 
to  depart. 

*  The  wind  will  never  change,  sir,  until  you  have  de- 
livered to  us,  in  that  meeting-house,  a  message  from  God.' 

Still  I  was  resolutely  determined  never  to  enter  any 
pidpit,  as  a  preacher;  yet,  being  rendered  truly  unhap- 
py, I  begged  I  might  be  shown  to  my  bed.  He  requested 
1  would  pray  with  them,  if  I  had  no  objection;  I  asked 
him,  how  he  could  suppose  I  had  any  objection  to  pray- 
ing? The  Quakers,  he  said,  seldom  prayed; -^nd  there 
were  others,  who  visited  him,  who  were  not  in  the  habit 
of  praying.  I  never  propose  prayer,  sir,  lest  it  should 
not  meet  with  the  approbation  of  those,  with  whom  I 
sojourn;  but  I  am  always  pleased,  when  prayer  is  pro- 
posed to  me.  I  prayed,  and  my  heart  was  greatly  en- 
larged and  softened.  When  we  parted  for  the  night, 
my  kind  host  solemnly  requested,  that  I  would  think  of 
what  he  had  said.  Alas !  he  need  not  to  have  made  this 
request;  it  was  impossible  to  banish  it  from  my  mind. 
When  I  entered  my  chamber,  and  shut  the  door,  I  burst 
into  tears;  I  would  have  given  the  world,  that  I  had 
never  left  England.  I  felt,  as  if  the  hand  of  God  was  in 
the  events,  which  had  brought  me  to  this  place,  and  I 
prayed  most  ardently,  that  God  would  assist  and  direct 
me  by  his  counsel  I  presented  myself  before  Him,  as  a 
man  bowed  down  by  calamity;  a  melancholy  outcast, 
driven  by  repeated  afflictions  of  body  and  of  mind  to  seek 
refuge  in  private  life,  to  seek  solitude  amid  the  wilds  of 
America.  Thou  knowest,  said  my  oppressed  spirit,  thou 
knowest,  O  Lord,  that,  if  it  had  pleased  thee,  I  would  have 
preferred  death,  as  the  safest,  and  most  sure  retreat;  but 
Thou  hast  not  seen  fit  to  indulge  my  wishes  in  this  re- 
spect. In  thy  providence,  thou  hast  brought  me  into  this 
new  world;  thou  seest  how  J  am  oppressed  by  solicita- 
tions, to  speak  unto  the  people  the  words  of  life;  thou 
knowest,  that  I  am  not  sufficient  for  these  things;  thou  God 
of  my  fathers,  thou  God  of  the  stranger,  look  with  pity 


140  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

upon  the  poor,  lonely  wanderer,  now  before  thee.  0 
thou,  that  sittest  in  the  heavens,  and  rulest  in  the  earth, 
and  who  assures!  us,  that  a  hair  of  our  head  cannot  fall, 
unnoticed  by  thee;  O  thou,  who  kindly  directest  us,  thy 
poor  dependant  creatures,  to  acknowledge  thee  in  all 
their  ways,  and  to  make  their  requests  known  unto  thee 
in  every  time  of  affliction,  behold  thy  poor  dependent, 
supplicating  thee  for  thy  kind  direction  and  protection; 
if  thou  hast  indeed  put  it  into  the  heart  of  thy  servant  to 
demand  of  me,  the  meanest  and  weakest  of  all,  to  whom 
thou  didst  ever  give  power  to  believe  in  the  name  of  thy 
Son,  to  declare  unto  him,  and  the  people  of  this  place, 
the  gospel  of  thy  grace  O  God!  in  mercy  prepare  me, 
prepare  me  for  so  vast  an  undertaking,  and  let  thy  pre- 
sence be  with  me;  strengthen  me,  O  Lord,  by  thy  mighty 
spirit.  And  if  it  be  not  thy  pleasure  thus  to  employ  me, 
— for  thou,  O  God,  wilt  send,  by  whom  thou  wilt  send, — 
graciously  manifest  thy  will,  that  so  I  may  not  by  any 
means  be  drawn  into  a  snare>  Thou  art  the  sinner's 
friend,  thou  art  the  only  friend  I  have.  To  thee,  O  thou 
compassionate  Father  of  my  spirit,  encouraged  by  thy 
gracious  promises,  I  make  application.  Pity,  O  pity  the 
destitute  stranger;  leave  me  not,  I  most  earnestly  entreat 
thee,  to  my  own  direction. 

Thus  did  I  pray,  thus  did  I  weep  through  the  greater 
part  of  the  night;  dreading  more  than  death,  even  sup- 
posing death  an  object  of  dread,  the  thought  of  engag- 
ing, as  a  public  character.  On  the  one  hand,  I  discover- 
ed, that  if  there  be  a  ruling  power,  a  superintending 
providence,  the  account,  given  by  the  extraordinary  man 
under  whose  roof  I  reposed,  evinced  its  operation;  that, 
if  the  heart  of  the  creature  be  indeed  in  the  hand  of.  the 
Creator,  it  was  manifest,  that  God  had  disposed  the  heart 
of  this  man  to  view  me  as  His  messenger,  sent  for  the 
purpose  of  declaring  the  council  of  his  peace  to  his 
creatures.  On  the  other  hand,  I  recollected,  that  the 
heart  is  deceitful,  above  all  things;  that  the  devices  of 
the  adversary  are  manifold;  and  that,  had  it  been  the 
will  of  God,  'that  I  should  have  become  a  promulgator  of 
the  gospel  of  his  grace,  he  would  have  qualified  me  for 
an  object  of  such  infinite  magnitude.  If  I  testified  of 
Jesus  according  to  the  scriptures,  I  well  knew  upon  what 
I  must  calculate;  the  clergy,  of  all  denominations,  would 
unite  to  oppose  me.  For  1  had  never  met  with  any  indi- 
vidual of  that  order,  either  in  the  Church  of  Rome;  or 
elsewhere,  who  were  believers  of  the  Gospel,  that  God 
preached  unto  Abraham,  that,  in  Christ  Jesus,  all  the 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  141 

families  of  the  earth  should,  be  blessed^  nor  did  they,  as 
far  as  I  had  known,  embrace  the  ministry  of  reconcilia- 
tion, committed  unto  the  apostles,  namely,  that  God  was 
in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself,  not  im- 
puting unto  them  their  trespasses;  nor  did  they  acknowl- 
edge the  restitution  of  aJl  things,  testified  by  all  God^s 
holy  prophets  ever  since  the  world  began.  To  these  doc- 
trines I  supposed  clergymen  in  this,  as  well  as  in  the 
country  I  had  left,  united  in  their  opposition;  and  con- 
vinced that  there  were  no  enemies  in  the  world  more 
powerful,  than  the  clergy,  I  trembled  at  tiie  thought  of 
stemming  the  full  tide  of  their  displeasure.  I  was  per- 
suaded that  people  in  general,  being  under  the  dominion 
of  the  clergy,  would  hate  where  they  hated,  and  report 
what  they  reported.  Acquainted  in  some  measure  with 
human  nature,  and  with  divine  revelation,  I  was  certain, 
that,  if  I  appeared  in  the  character  of  a  real  dis6iple  of 
Christ  Jesus;  if  1  dared  to  declare  the  whole  truth  of 
God,  all  manner  of  evil  would  be  said  of  me;  and, 
although  it  might  be  falsely  said,  while  the  inventor  of 
the  slander  would  be  conscious  of  its  falsehood,  the  ma- 
jority of  those  who  heard  would  yield  it  credit,  and  I 
should  become  the  victim  of  their  credulity. 

I  knew  how  Mr.  Relly  had  .suifered  in  England,  a'nd 
the  Apostles  in  Judea;  and  being  a  believer  in  the  testimo- 
ny of  God,  I  was  assured,  if  my  doctrines  were  the  same, 
my  treatment  would  be  similar.  All  this  rose  to  my  view, 
and  the  prospect  was  tremendous.  Thus  I  passed  the 
night,  and  the  ensuing  morning  witnessed  my  indisposi- 
tion both  of  body  and  mind.  My  good  friend  renewed 
his  solicitations.  '  Will  you,  sir,  speak  to  me,  and  to 
my  neighbors,  of  the  things  which  belong  to  our  peace  .^' 
Seeing  only  thick  woods,  the  tavern  across  the  field  ex- 
cepted, I  requested  to  know  what  he  riicant  by  neigh- 
bors.'' '  O  sir,  we  assemble  a  large  congregation,  when- 
ever the  meeting-house  is  opened;  indeed,  when  my 
father  first  settled  here,  he  was  obliged  to  go  twenty  miles 
to  grind  a  bushel  of  corn,  but  there  are  now  more  than 
seven  hundred  inhabitants  within  that  distance.'  I  was 
amazed;  indeed  every  thing  I  saw,  and  every  thing  I  heard, 
amazed  me;  nothing,  except  the  religion  of  the  people, 
resembled  what  I  had  left  behind. 

My  mind  continued  subjected  to  the  most  torturing  re- 
flections. I  could  not  bring  myself  to  yield  to  the  en- 
treaties of  Mr.  Potter,  and  still  I  urged  the  necessity  of 
departing,  the  moment  the  wind  would  answer.  Mr. 
Potter,  was  positive  the  wind  would  not  change,  until  I 
13 


14^  LIFE    OF    RKV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

had  spoken  to  the  people.  Most  ardently  did  I  desire  to 
escape  the  importunities  of  this  good  man.  The  idea 
of  a  crowd,  making  a  public  exhibition  of  myself,  was,, 
to  my  desolate,  wo-woni  mind,  intolerable;  and  the  sus- 
pense, in  which  I  was  held  was  perfectly  agonizing.  I 
could  not  forbear  acknowledging  an  uncommon  coinci- 
dence of  circumstances.  The  hopes  and  fears  of  this 
honest  man,  so  long  in  operation,  yet  he  evinced  great 
warmth  of  disposition,  and  was  evidently  tinctured  with 
enthusiasm;  but,  after  making  every  allowance  for  these 
propensities,  it  could  not  be  denied,  that  an  over-ruling 
Power  seemed  to  operate,  in  an  unusual,  and  remarka- 
ble manner.  I  could  not  forbear  looking  back  upon  the 
mistakes,  made  during  our  passage,  even  to  the  coming 
in  to  this  particular  inlet,  where  no  vessel,  of  the  size  of 
the  brig  '  Hand-in-Hand,'  had  ever  before  entered; 
every  circumstance  contributed  to  bring  me  to  this  houst!. 
Mr.  Potter's  address  on  seeing  me;  his  assurance,  that  ho 
knew  I  was  on  board  the  vessel,  when  he  saw  her  at  a 
distance:  all  these  considerations  pressed  with  powerful 
conviction  on  my  mind,  and  I  was  ready  to  say,  If  God 
Almighty  has,  in  his  providence,  so  ordered  events,  as  to 
bring  me  into  this  country  for  the  purpose  of  making 
manifest  the  savor  of  his  name,  and  of  bringing  many  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  truth;  though  I  would  infinitely 
prefer  .death,  to  entering  into  a  character,  which  will 
subject  me  to  what  is  infinitely  worse  than  death;  yet,, 
as  the  issues  of  life  and  death  are  not  under  my  direc- 
tion, am  I  not  bound  to  submit  to  the  dispensations  of 
providence.''  I  wished,  however,  to  be  convinced,  that 
it  was  the  will  of  God,  that  I  should  step  forth  in  a 
character,  which  would  be  considered  as  obnoxious  as 
truly  detestable.  I  was  fully  convinced,  it  was  not  by 
the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  by  the  will  of  the  world,  nor 
by  the  will  of  the  god  of  this  world;  all  these  were 
strongly  opposed  thereto.  One  moment,  I  felt  my  res- 
olution give  way;  the  path,  pointed  out,  seemed  to 
brighten  upon  me:  but  the  next,  the  difficulties,  from 
within  and  without,  obscured  the  prospect,  and  1  relapsed 
into  a  fiirm  resolution  to  shelter  myself,  in  solitude, 
from  the  hopes,  and  fears,  and  the  various  contentions  of 
men. 

While  I  thus  balanced,  the  Sabbath  advanced.  I  had 
ventured  to  implore  the  God,  who  had  sometimes  con- 
descended to  indulge  individuals  with  tokens  of  his  ap- 
probation, graciously  to  indulge  me,  upon  this  important 
occasion;  and  that,  if  it  were  his  will,  that  I  should  ob- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MtJRRAY.  14$ 

tain  the  desire  of  my  soul,  by  passing  through  life  in  a 
private  character.  If  it  were  riot  his  will,  that  I  should 
engage  as  a  preacher  .of  the  ministry  of  reconciliation, 
he  would  vouchsafe  to  grant  me  such  a  wind,  as  might 
bear  me  from  this  shore,  before  the  return  of  another 
Sabbath.  I  determined  to  take  the  changing  of  the  wind 
for  an  answer;  and,  had  the  wind  changed,  it  would 
have  borne  on  its  wings  full  conviction,  because  it 
would  have  corresponded  with  my  wishes.  But  the 
wind  changed  not,  and  Saturday  morning  arrived.  '  Well,' 
said  my  anxious  friend,  *  now  let  me  give  notice  to  my 
neighbors.'  No,  sir,  not  yet,  should  the  wind  change  in 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  I  must  depart.  No  tongue 
«an  tell,  nor  heart  conceive,  how  much  I  suffered  this 
afternoon;  but  the  evening  came  on,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary I  should  determine;  and  at  last,  with  much  fear 
and  trembling,  I  yielded  a  reluctant  consent.  Mr.  Pot- 
ter then  immediately  despatched  his  servants,  on  horse- 
back, to  spread  the  intelligence  far  and  wide,  and  they 
were  to  continue  their  information,  until  ten  in  the  eve- 
ning. 

I  had  no  rest  through  the  night.  What  should  I  say, 
or  how  address  the  people,'*  Yet  I  recollected  the  admo- 
nition of  our  Lord:  *  Take  no  thought  what  you  shall 
say:  it  shall  he  given  you  in  that  same  hour,  what  you 
shall  say.''  Ay,  but  this  promise  was  made  to  his  disci- 
ples. Well,  by  this,  I  shall  know  if  I  am  a  disciple.  If 
God,  in  his  providence,  is  committing  to  me  a  dispensa- 
tion of  the  gospel.  He  will  furnish  me  with  matter, 
without  my  thought  or  care.  If  this  thing  be  not  of  God, 
He  will  desert  me,  and  this  shall  be  another  sign;  on 
this,  then,  I  rested.  Sunday  morning  succeeded;  my 
host  was  in  transports.  I  was — I  cannot  describe  how 
I  was.  I  entered  the  house;  it  was  neat  and  convenient, 
expressive  of  the  character  of  the  builder.  There  were 
no  pews;  the  pulpit  was  rather  in  the  Quaker  mode; 
the  seats  were  constructed  with  backs,  roomy,  and  even 
elegant.  I  said  there  were  no  pews;  there  was  one  large 
square  pew,  just  before  the  pulpit;  in  this  sat  the  vene- 
rable man  and  his  family,  particular  friends,  and  visit- 
ing strangers.  In  this  pew  sat,  upon  this  occasion  this 
happy  man,  and,  surely,  no  man,  upon  this  side  of 
heaven,  was  ever  more  completely  happy.  He  looked 
up  to  the  pulpit  with  eyes  sparkling  with  pleasure;  it  ap- 
peared to  him,  as  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise  long  defer- 
red; arid  he  reflected,  with  abundant  consolation,  on  the 
strong  faith,  which  he  had  cherished,  while  his  associates 


144  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

would  tauntingly  question,  '  Well,  Potter,  where  is  this 
minister,   who  is  to  be   sent  to  you?'     'He  is   coming 
along,   in    God's  own   good  time.'     '  And  do   you   still 
believe  any  such  preacher  will  visit  you  ?'     '  O  yes,  assu- 
redly.'    He  reflected  upon  all  this,  and  tears  of  transport 
filled  his  eyes;  he  looked  round  upon  the  people,  and 
every  feature  seemed  to  say,  'There,  what  think  you 
now?.     When  I  returned  to  his  house,  he  caught  me  in 
his  arms,   '  Now,  now  I  am  willing  to  depart;  Oh,  my 
God!  I  will  praise  thee;  ihou  hast  granted  me  my  de- 
sire.   After  this  truth  I  have  been  seeking,  but  I  have  never 
found  it,until  now;  I  knew,  that  God,  who  put  it  into  my 
heart  to  build  a  house  for  his  worship,,  would  send  a  servant 
of  his  own  to  proclaim  his  own  gospel.     I  knew  he  would; 
I  knew  the  time  was  come,  when  I  saw  the  vessel  ground- 
ed; I  knew,  you  were  the  man,  when  I  saw  you  approach 
my  door,  and  my  heart  leaped  for  joy.'     Visitors  poured 
into  the  house;  he  took  each  by  the  hand.     This  is  the 
happiest  day   of  my  life,'   said  the    transported  man: 
'  There,  neighbors,  there  is  the  minister  God  promised 
to  send  me;  how  do  you  like  God's  minister;'  I  ran  from 
the  company,  and  prostrating  myself  before  the  throne 
of  grace,  besought  my  God  to  take  me,  and  do  with  me, 
whatever  he  pleased.     I  am,  said  I,  I  am,  O  Lord  God, 
in  thine  hand,  as  clay  in  the  hand  of  the  potter.     If  thou 
in  thy  providence,  hast  brought  me  into  this  new  world 
to  make  known  unto  this  people  the  grace  and  the  bless- 
ings of  the  new  covenant;  if  thou  hast  thought  proper, 
by  making  choice  of  so  weak  an  instrument,  to  confound 
the  wise;  if  thou  hast  been  pleased  to  show  to  a  babe, 
possessing  neither  wisdom  nor  prudence,  what  thou  hast 
hid  from  the  wise  and  prudent, — be  it  so,  O  Father,  for 
so  it  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight.     But,  O  my  merciful 
God!  leave  me  not,  I  beseech  thee,  for  a  single  moment; 
for  without  thee,  I  can  do  nothing..    O,  make  thy  strength 
perfect  in  my  weakness,  that  the  world  may  see  that 
thine  is  the  power,  and  that  therefore  thine  ought  to  be  the 
glory.     Thus  my  heart  prayed,  while  supplicating  tears 
bedewed  my  face. 

I  felt,  however,  relieved  and  tranquillized,  for  I  had 
power  given  me  to  trust  in  the  Lord;  to  stay  upon  the 
God  of  my  salvation.  Immediately  upon  my  return  to 
the  company,  my  boatmen  entered  the  house:  '  The  wind 
is  fair,  sir.'  Well,  then,,  we  will  depart.  It  is  late  in 
the  afternoon,  but  no  matter,  I  will  embark  directly;  I 
have  been  determined  to  embrace  the  first  opportunity, 
well  knowing  the  suspense  the  captain  must  be  in,  and 


-<»i 


LIFE    OF    REV,    JOHN    MURRAY  145 

the  pain  attendant  thereon.  Accordingly,  as  soon  as 
matters  could  be  adjusted,  I  set  off;  but  not  till  my  old 
friend,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  said:  *  You  are  now 
going  to'  New  Yorkj  I  am  afraid  you  will,  when  there, 
forget  the  man,  to  whom  your  Master  sent  you.  But  I 
do  beseech  you,  come  back  to  me  again  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble.' The  tears  gushed  into  his  eyes,  and,  regarding  me 
with  a  look,  indicative  of  the  strongest  affection,  he  threw 
his  arms  around  me,  repeating  his  importunites,  that  I 
would  not  unnecessarily  delay  my  return.  I  was  greatly 
affected,  reiterating  the  strongest  assurances,  that  I  would 
conform  to  his  wishes.  Why  should  I  not?  said  I;  what 
is  there  to  prevent  me.''  I  do  not  know  an  individual  in 
New  York;  no  one  knows  me;  what  should  induce  me 
to  tarry  there  ?  '  Ah,  my  friend,'  said  he,  '  you  will  find 
many  in  New  York,  who  will  love  and  admire  you,  and 
they  will  wish  to  detain  you  in  that  city.  But  you  have 
promised  you  will  return,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  perform 
your  promise;  and  in  the  mean  time,  may  the  God  of 
heaven  be  with  you.'  Unable  to  reply,  I  hurried  from 
his  door;  and,  on  entering  the  vessel,  I  found  the  good 
old  man  had  generously  attended,  to  what  had  made  no 
part  of  my  care,  by  making  ample  provision,  both  for  me 
and  the  boatmen,  during  our  little  voyage. 

I  retired  to  the  cabin;  I  had  leisure  for  serious  reflec- 
tions, and  serious  reflections  crowded  upon  me.  I  was 
astonished,  I  was  lost  in  wonder,  in  love,  and  praise;  I 
saw,  as  evidently  as  I  could  see  any  object,  visibly 
exhibited  before  me,  that  the  good  hand  of  God  was  in 
all  these  things.  It  is,  I  spontaneously  exclaimed,  it  is  the 
Lord's  doings!  and  it  is  marvellous  in  my  eyes.  It 
appeared  to  me,  that  I  could  trace  the  hand  of  God,  in 
bringing  me,  through  a  long  chain  of  events,  to  such  a 
place,  to  such  a  person,  so  evidently  prepared  for  my 
reception;  and,  while  I  acknowledged  the  will  of  God, 
manifested  respecting  my  public  character,  I  at  the  same 
moment  distinguished  the  kindness  of  God,  evinced  by 
his  indulging  me  with  a  retirement  so  exactly  suited  to 
my  wishes.  The  house  was  neat,  the  situation  enchant- 
ing, it  was  on  the  margin  of  the  deep,  on  the  side  of  an 
extensive  bay,  which  abounded  with  fish  of  every  descrip- 
tion, and  a  great  variety  of  water  fowl.  On  the  other 
side  of  this  dwelling,-  after  passing  over  a  few  fields, 
(which  at  that  time  stood  thick  with  corn,)  venerable 
woods,  -that  seemed  the  coevals  of  time,  presented  a 
^scene  for  contemplation  fit,  towering,  majestic,  and 
filling  the  devotional  mind  with  a  religious  awe.'  I 
13* 


146  jLIFE    of    rev.    JOHN   MURRAY. 


reflected,  therefore,  with  augmenting    gratitude  to  my 
heavenly  Father,  upon  the  pressing  invitation,  he  had 

Fut  into  the  heart  of  his  faithful  servant  to  give  mej  and 
determined  to  hasten  back  to  this  delightful  retreat, 
where  nothing,  but  the  grandeur  of  simple  nature,  exhib- 
ited in  the  surrounding  objects,  and  the  genuine  operations 
of  the  divine  spirit  on  the  heart  of  the  hospitable  master, 
awaited  my  approach. 

I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  tarrying  in  New  York  a 
moment  longer,  than  to  see  the  captain,  deliver  up  my 
charge,  and  receive  my  baggage,  and  I  resolved  to  return, 
by  the  first  opportunity,  to  my  benevolent  friend.  And 
thus  did  I  make  up  my  mind:  Well,  if  it  be  so,  I  am 
grateful  to  God,  that  the  business  is  thus  adjusted..  If  I 
must  be  a  promulgator  of  these  glad,  these  vast,  yet 
obnoxious  tidings,  1  shall  however  be  sheltered  in  the 
bosom  of  friendship,  in  the  bosom  of  retirement.  I  will 
employ  myself  on  the  grounds  of  my  friend,  thus  earning 
my  own  support,  and  health  will  be  a  concomitant;  while 
I  will  preach  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation,  free  as  the 
light  of  heaven.  The  business,  thus  arranged,  I  became 
reconciled  to  the  will  of  the  Almighty,  and  I  commenced, 
with  tolerable  composure,  another,  and  very  important, 
stage  of  my  various  life.^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Becord  continued  from  the  September  o/1770  to  the  Winr- 
ter  of  1114. 

'  Armed  with  the  sword  of  Jesse's  youthful  son. 
Engaged  with  ardor  in  the  freedom  won 
By  Christ,  the  anointed  God  of  earth  and  heaven, 
Dare  nobly,  Murray,  tell  the  boon  that's  given. 

Motto  by  a  Friend. 

Behold  me  now  entering  upon  a  new  stage  of  the 
journey  of  life,  a  professed  preacher  of  the  gospel.  Of 
my  inability  for  an  undertaking  so  vast,  I  retained  a  con- 
tinued and  depressing  sense;  but  I  determined  to  be  as 
consistent,  and  as  useful,  as  possible;  I  would  be  an  as- 
sistent  to  my  new  friend  in  his  agricultural  and  fishing 
employments;  and,  upon  every  returning  Sunday,  I  would 
preach  to  him  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus;  I  had  not  the  most 
remote  idea  of  ever  preaching  any  where,  but  in  the  house. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  147 

which  he  had  built;  and  thus  I  should  questionless  be  in- 
dulged with  the  retirepientj  which  had  been  the  prime 
object  of  my  voyage.  Thus  consolatory  were  my  reflec- 
tions upon  my  passage  to  New  York;  at  which  place  I 
arrived  about  noon,  upon  the  ensuing  day.  I  inquired 
for  the  captain,  delivered  up  my  cliarge,  took  my  baggage 
from  the  brig  Hand-in-Hand,  and  secured  a  lodging,  un- 
til I  could  obtain  a  passage  back  to  the  hospitable  mansion 
I  had  left.  But  the  day  had  not  closed  in,  before  a  num- 
ber of  persons  visited  me,  earnestly  soliciting  me  to  speak 
to  them  of  the  things  of  the  kingdom !  I  was  immeasura- 
bly astonished;  totally  a  stranger  in  the  city,  1  could 
scarcely  believe  I  was  not  in  a  dream.  The  boatman, 
however,  having  given  an  account  of  me  on  their  arrival, 
the  intelligence  was  wafted  from  one  end  of  the  city  unto 
the  other;  .and  the  people,  being  anxious  to  hear  some- 
thing new,  and  from  a  new  preacher,  became  extremely 
importunate.  I  could  not  deiiy  that  I  had  preached;  but 
I  gave  lli3  solicitors  to  understand,  that  I  had  absolutely 
engaged  to  return  by  the  first  opportunity,  and  that,  of 
course  I  was  not  at  liberty  to  comply  with  their  request. 
They  promised  they  would  insure  me  a  speedy  and  eli- 
gible conveyance,  if  I  would  consent  to  give  them  a  dis- 
course in  the  Baptist  meeting-house;  and  it  became  im- 
possible to  resist  their  persuasions.  The  house  was 
thronged,  and  the  hearers  so  well  satisfied,  as  to  solicit, 
most  earnestlj'^,  my  continuance  among  them.  But  this  I 
was  not  disposed  to  do;  this  I  could  not  do;  my  word, 
my  honor  was  engaged  to  my  first  American  friend;  and, 
when  duty  is  seconded  by  inclination,  perseverance  be- 
comes a  matter  of  course.  Upwards  of  a  week  elapsed, 
before  the  earnestly  sought-for  passage  presented  during 
which  period  I  frequently  preached  and  to  crowded 
houses.  I  was  gratified  by  the  marked  attention  of  many 
characters.  Novelty  is  rarely  destitute  of  attraction. 
Even  the  minister  extended  to  me  the  hand  of  apparent 
friendship;  which  I  accounted  for  upon  a  supposition, 
that  he  was  ignorant  of  my  testimony.  1  made  use  of  the 
same  scriptures,  w  hich  he  made  use  of;  and  he  was  not 
apprized,  that  I  yielded  them  unqualified  credence.  I  had 
no  doubt,  that,  so  soon  as  he  should  be  informed,  that  I 
believed  what  I  delivered,  he  would  condemn,  as  much  as 
he  now  appeared  to  approve.  Yet  some  few  there  were, 
firm,  unchanging  friends,  whose  attachment  to  me,  and 
my  testimony,  has  to  this  moment  continued  unbroken. 
So  soon  as  an  opportunity  to  return  presented,  I  very 
cheerfully  embraced  it;  and  I  felt  my  heart  bound  with 


148  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

pleasure,  at  the  thought  of  that  meeting,  which,  a  few 
days  before,  I  would  have  died  to  avoid.  The  charming 
retreat,  in  the  gift  of  my  friend,,  was,  in  my  estimation, 
highly  preferable  to  N«w  York,  and  all  whi^h  it  could 
bestow:  and  1  longed  most  earnestly  to  quit  the  one,  and 
to  return  to  the  other.  A  number  of  friends  accompa- 
nied me  to  the  vessel,  and  we  parted,  with  expressions  of 
regret.  A  single  day  produced  me  again  in  the  abode  of 
genuine.  Christian  friendship;  to  which  I  was  welcomed 
with  every  demonstration  of  heart-felt  joy. 

Here,  then,  I  considered  I  had  found  a  permanent 
home;  that  a  final  period  was  at  length  put  to  my  wander- 
ings; and  after  all  my  apprehensive  dread,  from  being 
drawn  into  the  public  character,  nov/,  that  I  had  a  pros- 
pect of  sustaining  this  public  character,  in  so  private  a 
manner,  I  was  not  only  reconciled,  but  tranquillized,  and 
happ3^  I  had  leisure  to  retrospect  my  past  life,  and  I 
was  filled  with  astonishment  when  I  beheld  all  the  vari- 
ous paths,  which  I  had  trod,  ultimately  leading  me  to  a 
uniform  contemplation  of  redeeming  love;  nor  could  I 
forbear  exclaiming:  Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works. 
Lord  God  Almighty !  just  and  true  are  thy  ways,  O,  thou 
King  of  saints ! 

The  winter  now  approached,  and  with  hasty  strides; 
my  worthy  friend  was  diligently  gathering  in  the  fruits 
of  the  earth.  I  was  disposed  to  aid  him  to  the  utmost  of 
my  abilities.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  my  labor- 
ing in  the  field,  '  Why  need  you  .'*  have  you  not  enough 
to  engage  your  attention,  in  the  business  on  which  you 
are  sent?'  Believe  me,  my  friend,  my  employment  in 
your  field,  will  not  interrupt  my  reflections.  I  can  study 
better  in  the  field,  than  in  my  chamber;  it  requires  but 
little  study  to  deliver  simple,  plain,  gospel  truth;  to  per- 
vert this  truth,  requires  a  vast  deal  of  wordly  wisdom. 
Let  me,  my  dear  sir,  do  as  I  please;  I  have  fixed  upon  a 
plan,  with  which  you  shall  be  acquainted,  when  the 
labors  of  the  day  are  closed.  In  the  evening,  when  the 
cheerful  fire  blazed  upon  the  hearth,  and  we  were  «eated 
in  the  well-lighted  parlor;  '  Come,'  said  the  good  man^ 
*  now  for  your  plan.'  I  think,  my  dear  sir,  «aid  I,  I  am 
at  length  convinced,  that  God  in  his  providence  has 
thought  proper  to  appoint  me,  however  unworthy,  to  the 
ministry  of  the  new  testament;  and  while  persuaded  that 
our  common  Father  has  committed  a  dispensation  of  the 
gospel  to  me,  and  that  a  wo  is  pronounced  against  me, 
if  I  preach  it  not,  it  will  be  impossible  I  should  remain 
silent:  but,  knowing,  as  I  do,  something  of  the  nature 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  149 

of  man,  and  of  the  situation  of  preachers,  in  general, 
I  am,  for  myself  determined  not  to  make  a  gain  of 
godliness;  I  will  make  no  provision  for  myself.  I 
have  abundance  of  cloathing;  and  as  to  food,  I  will  eat 
of  whatever  is  set  before  me,  asking  no  question,  either 
for  the  sake  of  conscience,  or  appetite;  and  for  my  drink, 
nothing  is  so  salutary  for  me,  as  cold  water.  I  am  per- 
suaded, I  shall  not  live  long  in  this  world;  at  least,  I 
hope  I  shall  not.  I  am  alone  in  the  world;  I  shall  want 
but  little  here,  '  nor  want  that  little  long.'  I  reject,  then, 
with  my  whole  soul  I  reject,  the  liberal  offer,  you  so  re- 
cently made  me,  of  a  fixed  stipend.  I  will  have  no  sala- 
ry, I  will  have  no  collections,  I  will  preach  the  gospel, 
freely.  I  will  work  in  your  fields,  I  will  eat  at  your  table, 
I  will  slake  my  thirst  at  the  limpid  stream  which  furnishes 
your  family;  but  you  shall  make  no  change  in  the  order 
of  your  house,  on  my  account.  I  will  associate  with  your 
associates.  I  expect  to  meet  them,  at  the  table  of  my 
great  Lord  and  Master,  in  mansions  beyond  the  grave; 
and  shall  I  hesitate  to  meet  them,  upon  equal  terms,  in 
this  lower  world.**  I  am  pleased  with  your  situation; 
with  your  house  of  worship;  with  your  neighbors;  with 
every  thing  I  am  pleased;  and  if  that  God,  who  brought 
me  hither,  will  graciously  vouchsafe  to  indulge  me  with 
the  privilege  of  tarrying  here,  until  I  am  liberated  from 
this  body  of  sin  and  death,  I  shall  be  still  better  pleased. 
The  good  old  man  could  no  longer  suppress  his  feel- 
ings. He  arose  from  his  seat,  caught  me  in  his  arms, 
essayed  to  speak,  paused,  .and  at  length  exclaimed:  '  O 
my  God,  is  it  possible?  Why  such,  I  have  thought, 
ministers  of  Jesus  Christ  ought  to  be.'  But,  my  friend, 
I  replied,  every  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  cannot  live,  as  I 
can.  I  have  no  family,  no  home,  no  want.  If  I  had  a 
family,  I  should  be  worse  than  an  infidel,  not  to  make 
provisions  for  my  household;  but  God,  by  separating  me 
from  my  beloved  companion,  and  my  cherub  boy,  has 
enabled  me  to  preach  the  gospel,  freely.  I  never  saw 
any  man  so  delighted,  and  especially  with  my  determina- 
tion to  continue  with  him.  Dear,  kind-hearted  man, 
both  he,  and  I,  then  believed,  that  death  only  could  sepa- 
rate us.*     In  a  place,  so  remote  from  the  world,  I  im- 

*  If  the  reader  wishes  to  peruse  a  delineation  of  the  feelings  of  the 
subject  of  this  biography,  upon  visiting  this  delightful  retreat,  after 
the  demise  of  its  philanthropic  owner,  with  a  sermon,  preached  upon 
the  occasion,  he  may  see  !)oth  in  the  eleventh  Letter,  Vol.  I.  of  the 
*  Letters  and  Sketches  of  Sermons,'  recently  published  by  the  now 
departed  preacher.  Ed. 


150  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

agined  I  should  enjoy,  uninterruptedly,  every  wish  of  my 
heart;  and  again  and  again  I  felicitated  myself  in  the 
prospect  of  finishing  my  weary  life  in  this  sweet,  this 
calm  retreat,  unincumbered  by  care, — conferring,  as  well 
as  receiving,  benefits, — nobly  independent, — possessing 
all  which  the  treacherous  world  could  now  bestow. 
Thus  I  went  on, — pleased,  and  pleasing.  I  had  leisure 
for  converse  with  myself,  with  my  Bible,  and  my  God. 
The  letters  of  my  Eliza  were  a  source  of  mournfully  pen- 
sive consolation, — they  were  multiplied, — and  I  had 
carefully  preserved  them.  Many  a  time  have  I  shed 
over  them  the  private,  the  midnight  tear;  and  reading 
them  thus  late,  when  I  have  fallen  into  a  sweet  slumber, 
1  have  met  the  lovely  author  in  my  dreams,  and  our 
meeting  has  been  replete  with  consolation,  with  such 
high  intercourse,  as  can  only  be  realized  in  heaven. 
Our  Sundays  were  indeed  blessed  holy-days;  people 
began  to  throng  from  all  quarters  on  horseback;  some 
from  the  distance  of  twenty  miles.  I  was  at  first  pleased 
with  this,  so  was  my  patron;  but  multiplied  invitations 
to  visit  other  places,  saddened  our  spirits.  I  dreaded  the 
thought  of  departing  from  home,  and,  in  the  fulness  of 
my  heart,  I  determined  I  would  never  accede  to  any  re- 
quest, which  should  bear  me  from  a  seclusion,  so  com- 
pletely commensurate  with  my  wishes.  Alas !  alas !  how 
little  da  we  know  of  ourselves,  or  our  destination.  So- 
licitations, earnest  solicitations,  poured  in  from  the  Jer- 
sies,  from  Philadelphia,  and  from  NewYork;  and  it  be-, 
came  impossible  to  withstand  their  repeated  and  impos- 
ing energy. 

The  first  visit  I  made,  was  to  a  village  about  eight 
miles  from  my  late-found  home.  My  patron  accompanied 
me,  and  we  were  joyfully  received,  by  a  serious  and 
i*espectable  family,  who  embraced,  with  devout  hearts, 
the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus;  and  who  were  consequently 
saved  from  all  those  torturing  fears,  that  had  previously 
harrowed  up  their  spirits,  in  the  dread  expectation  of 
those  everlasting  burnings,  which  they  believed  awaited 
themselves  and  their  offspring.  In  this  village,  I  one 
morning  entered  a  house,  and  beheld  a  fond  mother 
weeping  over  an  infant,  who  lay  sweetly  sleeping  in  her 
arms.  Sympathy  for  the  sorrowing  mother  moistened 
my  eye;  and,  supposing  that  her  tears  flowed  from  some 
domestic  distress,  or  pecuniary  embarrassment,  I  endea- 
vored to  console  her,  by  observing,  that  the  world  was 
very  wide,  and  that  God  was  an  all  sufficient  Father 
*  Alas!  sir,'  she  replied,  '  I  never,  in  the  whole  course  of 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  151 

my  life,  experienced  a  moment's  anxiety  from  the  dread 
of  my  children,  or  myself,  suffering  the  want  either  of 
food,  or  raiment.  No,  sir,  my  fears  are,  that  they  will 
be  sufferers  through  the  wasteless  ages  of  eternity,  in 
that  state  of  torment,  from  whence  there  is  no  reprieve; 
and  that  they  will  continually  execrate  their  parents,  as 
the  wretched  instruments  of  bringing  them  into  being. 
I  have  eight  children,  sir;  and  can  I  be  so  arrogant,  as  to 
believe  that  all  these  children  are  elected  to  everlasting 
life! '  But,  my  dear  lady,  you  have  reason  to  believe 
they  will  be  saved,  whether  they  be  elected  or  not,  be- 
cause Christ  Jesus  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men.  This  did 
not  satisfy  her.  I  took  up  the  bible,  which  lay  upon  her 
desk,  and  the  first  scripture,  which  met  my  view,  was  the 
1 .27th  Psalm.  I  glanced  my  eye  upon  the  3d  verse  of 
that  Psalm:  '  Lo,  children  are  the  heritage  of  the  Lord, 
and  the  fruit  of  the  womb  is  his  reward.'  I  did  not  re- 
collect this  passage;  it  was  the  fii'st  time  it  had  met  my 
particular  observation;  but  it  has  ever  since  been,  right 
precious  to  my  soul.  I  merely  opened  the  bible,  in  the 
expectation  of  finding  something  to  soothe  a  sorrowing 
mother,  and  this  most  pertinent  passage  broke  upon  me, 
with  unequalled  splendor.  I  was  myself  astonished,  and 
presenting  the  sacred  passage,  I  remarked:  There, 
madam,  Gj^d  has  sent  you,  for  your  consolation,  this 
divine  discovery.  You  have  been  unhappy,  because  you 
did  not  know,  that  your  children  were  God's  children, 
and  that  He  loved  them  as  well,  yea,  infinitely  better, 
than  you  can  pretend  to  love  them.  Nay,  look  at  the 
passage :  you  see  your  children  are  the  heritage  of  God, 
they  are  his  reward;  will  He  give  His  heritage  to  His 
adversary  ?  or  will  He  suffer  him  to  seize  any  part  there- 
of, if  He  has  sufficient  power  to  prevent  it?  Again  and 
again,  the  fond  mother  perused  the  passage;  gradually 
her  countenance  changed,  and  the  cloud  dispersed;  a 
flood  of  tears  burst  from  her  eyes;  she  brightened  up, 
and,  pressing  her  babe  to  her  maternal  bosom,  rapturously 
exclaimed:  'Blessed,  blessed  God,  they  are  not  mine; 
they  are  thine,  O  Almighty  Father;  and  thou  wilt  not  be 
regardless  of  thine  own?  '  I  never  saw  more  joy  in  con- 
sequence of  believing,  than  I  then  beheld.  Ten  years 
afterwards,  I  again  saw  this  parent,  and  asked  her,  what 
she  thought  of  her  children  ?  Blessed  be  God,  said  she, 
they  are  God's  children;  and  I  have  never  had  an  un- 
happy nroment  respecting  their  future  state,  since  my 
l^edeeirter  has  been  graciously  pleased  to  make  known 


152  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

unto  me  his  soul-satisfying  truth.     No,  sir,  my  spirit  is 
not  now  a  sorrowing  spirit. 

Again  a  letter  was  handed  me  from  New  York,  earnest- 
ly entreating  me  to  pay  them  a  visit.  Arrangements 
were  made  for  my  passage  in  the  vessel  by  which  I 
received  the  solicitation.  To  a  summons  so  pressing,  I 
dared  not  turn  a  deaf  ear.  In  fact,  a  revolution  had 
taken  place  in  my  mind.  It  appeared  to  me,  that  I  was 
highly  reprehensible  in  thus  withdrawing  myself  from 
the  tour  of  duty,  which  seemed  appointed  for  me;  and  I 
determined  never  to  seek,  directly  or  indirectly,  for  an 
open  door,  and  never  again  to  refuse  entering  any  door 
which  Providence  should  open.  It  is  true,  I  never  wish- 
ed to  receive  an  invitation;  but  I  was  aware,  that  the 
direction  of  me  and  my  movements  were  in  the  hands  of 
infinite  wisdom;  and  promising  my  benevolent  host,  that 
I  would  return  as  soon  as  possible,  I  departed  for  New 
York.  My  reception  surpassed  my  expectations,  and 
even  my  wishes.  Many  persons,  anxious  to  detain  me 
in  their  city,  went  so  far,  as  to  hand  about  a  subscription- 
paper,  for  the  purpose  of  building  for  me  a  house  of 
public  worship.  It  was  completely  filled  in  one  day, 
when  application  was  made  to  me  to  abide  with  them 
continually.  1  urged,  my  absolute  promise  given,  and 
my  inclination,  prompting  my  return  to  Good  Luck,  the 
name  of  the  place  where  my  friend  Potter  dwelt.  They 
were  astonished  at  my  determination  to  reside  in  such  a 
})lacc,  when  the  city  of  New  York  was  opening  its  arms 
to  receive  me;  but,  on  my  repeating  the  circumstances, 
attendant  upon  my  arrival  there,  they  seemed  disposed 
to  acquiesce,  and  to  acknowledge  the  good  hand  of  God 
outstretched  for  my  direction.  The  Baptist  meeting- 
house was  again  open  to  me,  and  the  congregations  were 
very  large;  my  friends  multiplied  very  fast,  and  I  became 
gradually  attached  to  this  city.  Yet  I  ardently  desired  to 
return  to  the  home  of  my  choice,  and,  after  spending  a 
few  weeks  in  New  York,  I  once  more  hailed  my  provi- 
dential residence;  numbers  of  warm-hearted  friends 
accompanying  me,  as  before,  even  to  the  vessel's  side, 
\yhere  they  offered  up  to  heaven  their  most  fervent 
prayers  in  my  behalf.  My  heart  was  greatly  affected,  I 
was  warmly  attached  to  many  in  New  York.  The 
family  of  Col.  Drake,  and  many  others  now  no  more, 
were  very  dear  to  me.  I  reached  home  in  good  health, 
and  was  received  with  great  joy;  even  the  servants 
seemed  to  participate  the  benevolence  of  their  master. 
In  fact,  having  nothing  in  the  habitation  of  my  friend  to 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  153 

render  me  uneasy,  my  mind  became  more  tranquil,  than 
it  had  been  for  many  years;  and,  at  peace  in  my  own 
breast,  I  consequently  contributed  to  the  happiness  of  all 
around  me.     Thus  I  continued  in  undisturbed  repose, 
until  a  Baptist  minister  from  New  Jersey,  believing  my 
sentiments  precisely  in  unison  with  his  own,  conceived  a 
strong  affection  for  me.     He  solicited  me  to  become  a 
member  of  his  church,  that  I  might  obtain  a  license  from 
their  association.     Of  course,  I  declined  his  friendly  of- 
fers; for  I  well  knew,  when  he  discovered  I  really  believ- 
ed the  gospel,  which  I  preached,  uniting  with  his  brethren, 
he  would  be  as  anxious  to  exclude  me  from  his  synagogue, 
as  he  now  was  to  receive  me.     He  pressed  me  however, 
to  visit  him,  which  I  did,  accompanied  by  my  patron, 
who,  to  his  great  mortification,  was  necessitated  to  leave 
me   there.      In   this   gentleman's   pulpit   I  preached;    I 
lodged  in  his  house;  and  received  from  him  every  mark 
of  attention,  until  my  unbending  refusal  of  all  collections, 
and  the  partiality  of  his  friends,  visibly  diminished  his 
regards.     I  had  calculated  upon  this  change,  and  it  did 
not  therefore  astonish  me.     He  was,  however,  a  warm- 
hearted man^.  and  as  sincere,  as  men  in  general  are.     In 
this  place  I  was  introduced  to  many  worthy  characters, 
who,  as  a  part  of  the  election,  obtained  a  knowledge  of 
truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus;  among  the  rest  was  a  justice 
Pangbrun,  a  venerable  old  gentleman,  who  had  for  many 
years  been  considered   by  his   brethren,  as   an   oracle. 
This  gentleman  heard  me,  and  discovered,  that  my  testi- 
mony was  not  in  unison  with  the  teaching,  to  which  he 
had  listened.     He  became  sedulously  intent  upon  detec- 
ting my  errors,  and  he  soon  discovered  I  was  wrong,  and 
as  soon,  kindly  endeavored  to  set  me  right;  but,  as  there 
was  no  other  way  of  effectuating  his  wishes,,  but  by  the 
word  of  God, — for  I  refused  all  other  authority, — he  was 
soon  convinced,  upon  searching  the  sacred  writings  for 
proofs  of  my  heresy,  that  it  was  he  himself,  who  had 
wandered  from  that  precious  truth  once  delivered  to  the 
saints.      Without   hesitation,  he   renounced  his  former 
views,  and  continued   ever   after   an  able   and  zealous 
advocate  for  the  truth,  preached  by  Abraham.     It   was 
now  noised  abroad,  that  I  was  nn  erroneous  teacher. 
The  clergyman,  who  was  so  warmly  attached  to  me, 
while  he  believed  me  a  Calvinistic  Baptist,  now  com- 
menced a  most  inveterate  adversary;  and  his  opposition 
published  more  extensively  my  name,  and  peculiar  tenets. 
Curiosity  was  excited,  and  I  became  the  object  of  general 
inquiry.      It  is   a  melancholy  truth,  that  esteem,   and 
14 


154  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

consequent  friendship,  are  not  generally  so  operative 
upon  the  human  mind,  as  rancor  and  enmity:  my  ex- 
perience is  in  unison  with  this  observation.  1  hastened 
back  to  my  calm  retreat;  alas!  it  was  no  longer  my 
peaceful  home, — for,  although  no  change  had  taken  place 
in  the  house  of  my  friend,  yet  the  influence  of  my 
clerical  enemy  pursued  me.  Opposition,  however,  begat 
opposition;  and,  while  I  was  hated  by  the  many,  I 
was  loved  and  caressed  by  the  few.  Solicitations  to 
preach  were  multiplied  from  every  quarter,  and,  although 
there  was  no  abatement  in  the  attachment  of  my  patron, 
yet  the  estrangement  of  some  individuals  in  our  vicinity, 
diminished  the  difficulty  of  accepting  invitations,  and  I 
\^'as  induced  to  visit  a  few  warm-hearted  individuals,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  my  implacable  foe.  Upon  my 
arrival  there,  I  discovered  a  want,  of  which  I  had  not 
until  then  been  conscious :  I  wanted  a  horse.  A  single 
hint  was  sufficient;  a  horse  was  immediately  procured, 
and,  so  ardent  was  the  affection  of  my  adherents,  that  I 
could  not  express  a  wish,  which  they  were  not  eager  to 
gratify;  but  my  wishes  were  very  much  bounded,  and  my 
wants  few  and  simple. 

Ah  invitation  from  Philadelphia  being  frequently  and 
earnestly  repeated,  I  repaired  to  that  city;  a  respectable 
circle  of  friends  awaited  me  there.  The  Baptist  minister 
invited  me  to  his  house,  and  his  pulpit.  He  questioned 
me  in  private,  and,  in  the  course  of  our  conversation,  he 
frequently  repeated :  '  Christ,  in  usy  the  hope  of  glory. ^ 
I  ventured  to  ask.  Pray,  sir,  what  do  you  understand  by 
Christ,  in  us,  the  hope  of  glory  7  'Why,  sir,  in  looking 
into  my  heart,  I  find  something  in  it,  which  I  had  not 
some  years  ago.'  Do  you,  sir,  call  this  something, 
Christ.?  'Undoubtedly.'  But,  sir,  all  the  angels  of  God 
worship  Christ;  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  are  admonished 
to  look  unto  Christ,  and  be  saved;  we  are  exhorted  to 
trust  in  him  at  all  times;  and  to  believe,  that  there  is  no 
other  name  given  under  heaven,  among  men,  whereby 
we  can  be  saved.  Now,  my  good  sir,  suffer  me  to  ask, 
would  it  be  safe  for  angels  in  heaven,  or  men  upon  earth, 
to  worship  that  something,  you  have  in  your  heart,  which 
you  had  not  there  some  years  ago  ?  would  it  be  safe  for 
all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  or  any  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
world,  to  look  to  that  something  for  salvation  ?  could  I, 
or  any  other  person,  trust,  at  all  times,  to  that  something? 
'  Then,  sir,  if  this  be  not  Christ,  what  can  the  passage  I 
have  cited  mean?'  Certainly,  sir,  this  cannot  be  the 
Christ  Paul  preached.     The  Christ,  Paul  preached,  was 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  155 

crucified;  he  was  buried;  he  arose;  he  ascended;  and 
the  heavens  must  contain  him,  until  the  time  of  the 
restitution  of  all  things.  '  But  how  then  is  it  that  this 
Christ  can  he  in  us  the  hope  of  glory?'  Why,  sir,  the 
Christian  has  no  other  hope  of  glory,  than  Jesus  Christ, 
entered  within  the  vail;  and  this  Saviour  is,  in  his  heart, 
the  object  of  his  trust  confidence,  and  affection.  You 
have,  sir,  as  I  understand,  a  beloved  wife  in  Europe;  but, 
although  the  Western  ocean  rolls  between  you,  yet  you 
may  say,  she  is  ever  in  your  heart,  and  no  one  would  be 
at  a  loss  to  understand  you;  but  if  you  were  to  tell  them, 
your  conjugal  affection  was  your  wife,  they  would  stare 
at  you :  and  yet  it  would  be  as  proper  to  say,  your  conju- 
gal affection  was  your  wife,  as  to  say  your  love  to  God, 
or  any  other  good,  and  proper  propensity,  was  your 
Christ.  No,  my  dear  sir,  these  are  not  that  Christ, 
the  things  of  which,  the  Spirit  of  truth  taketh,  and  show- 
eth  them  to  men,  as  the  matter  of  their  rejoicing.  The 
Christ,  of  whom  you  speak,  can  be  no  other  than  the 
false  Christ;  that  is,  something  which  is  called  Christ, 
but  is  not  Christ.  The  Christ,  of  whom  you  speak,  as 
your  hope  of  glory,  was  never  seen  by  any  body,  and  is 
itself  nobody.  It  neither  suffered  for  your  sins,  nor  rose 
for  your  justification;  and  it  is  therefore  most  unworthy 
to  be  held  in  reverence.  This  conversation,  as  may  be 
supposed,  made  this  gentleman  exceeding  angry;  and  I 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  hear  him,  although  he  imme- 
diately broke  up  the  conference,  insisted  upon  my  coming 
the  ensuing  day  (Sunday),  according  to  promise,  to  preach 
in  his  pulpit.  The  intelligence  ran  through  the  city, 
that  I  was  to  preach  in  the  Baptist  meeting-house,  and 
numbers  flocked  to  hear.  I  came,  I  entered  the  parlor 
of  the  reverend  gentleman;  many  of  the  members  of  his 
church  were  present,  and  a  young  candidate  for  the 
ministry.  The  gentleman,  who  invited  me,  and  who 
repeated  his  invitation  on  parting  with  me,  arose,  and 
throwing  upon  me  a  most  indignant  glance,  took  the 
young  gentleman  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  the 
meeting-house,  which  was  adjoining  to  his  dwelling, 
leaving  me  standing  in  his  parlor.  I  now  perceived, 
why  he  had  insisted  upon  my  coming  to  preach  for  him. 
But  it  was  not  wonderful;  I  had  spoken  contemptibly  of 
his  Christ,  and  he  took  rank  among  my  inveterate  foes; 
yet  I  had,  among  his  connexions,  a  few  friends,  who, 
indignant  at  the  treatment  I  had  received,  redoubled  thei^ 
caresses.  There  was  at  this  time  a  small  company  whb 
assembled  at  a  place,  known  by  the  name  of  Bachelor'i^ 


156  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Hall;  they  were  unacquainted  with  the  truth  I  delivered; 
yet,  willing  to  hear  for  themselves,  they  invited  me  to^ 
preach  for  them.  Halting  between  two  opinions,  they 
solicited  aid  from  a  minister  of  another  persuasion;  and 
they  requested  me  to  hear  him,  to  which  I  readily  con- 
sented. The  preacher  selected  his  text.  '  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world.^  He 
commenced  his  comment:  '  My  friends,  I  shall  undertake 
to  prove,  that  Jesus  never  did,  nor  never  will  take  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.'  I  was  astonished,  and  the  persons, 
asking  my  attendance,  were  abashed.  The  preacher 
added;  ^  It  is  impossible  Christ  can  have  taken  away  the 
sin  of  the  world,  for  then  all  the  world  must  be  saved.' 
This  was  unquestionable;  I  was  exceedingly  gratified, 
and  the  more,  as  this  sermon,  intended  for  my  confusion, 
did  much  to  establish  that  truth,  of  which,  by  the  grace 
of  God,  I  was  a  promulgator. 

The  combined  efforts  of  the  clergy  in  Philadelphia 
barred  against  me  the  door  of  every  house  of  public 
worship  in  the  city.  Bachelor's-Hall  was  in  Kensington. 
But  at  Bachelor's-Hall  the  people  attended,  and  a  few 
were  enabled  to  believe  the  good  word  of  their  God. 
There  was  in  the  city,  a  minister  of  the  Seventh-day 
Baptist  persuasion;  for  a  season  he  appeared  attached  to 
me,  but  soon  became  very  virulent  in  his  opposition. 
He  told  me  he  passed  on  foot  nine  miles,'  upon  the  return 
of  every  Saturday,  to  preach.  I  asked  him,  how  many 
his  congregation  contained^  *  About  an  hundred.'  How 
many  of  this  hundred  do  you  suppose'  are  elected  to  ever- 
lasting life?  'I  cannot  tell.'  Do  you  believe  fifty  are 
elected.''  '  Oh  no,  nor  twenty.'  Ten  perhaps?  '  There 
may  be  ten.'  Do  you  think  the  nonrelect  can  take  any 
step  to  extricate  themselves  from  the  tremendous  situa- 
tion, in  which  the  decrees  of  Heaven  have  placed  them  ? 
'  Oh  no,  they  might  as  well  attempt  to  pull  the  stars  from 
the  firmament  of  heaven.'  And  do  you  think  your 
preaching  can  assist  them?  '  Certainly  not;  every  ser- 
mon they  hear  will  sink  them  deeper  and  deeper  in  dam- 
nation.' And  so,  then,  you  walk  nine  miles  every  Satur- 
day to  sink  ninety  persons  out  of  a  hundred  deeper  and 
deeper  in  never-ending  misery  ! 

Reports,  injurious  to  my  peace,  were  now  very  gener- 
ally circulated;  and  although  I  expected  all  manner  of 
evil  would  be  said  of  me  falsely,  for  his  sake,  whose  ser- 
vant I  was,  yet  did  the  shafts  of  slander  possess  a  deadly 
power,  by  which  I  was  sorely  wounded.  Had  the  poi- 
soned weapon  been  aimed  by  characters,  wicked  in  the 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  157 

common  acceptation  of  the  word,  it  would  have  fallen 
harmless;  nay  the  fire  of  their  indignation  would  have 
acted  as  a  purifier  of  my  name;  but  reports,  originating 
ft'om  those,  who  were  deemed  holy  and  reverend — alas! 
their  bite  was  mortal.  Again  I  sighed  for  retirement,  again 
I  hastened  to  the  bosom  of  my  patron,  and  again  my  re- 
ception was  most  cordial.  Yet,  although  so  much  evil 
was  said  of  me,  many,  glancing  at  the  source,  made 
candid  deductions,  and  were  careful  to  proportion  their 
acts  of  kindness  to  the  magnitude  of  my  wrongs.  Invi- 
tations met  me  upon  the  road,  and,  wafted  upon  the 
wings  of  fame,  I  could  enter  no  town,  or  village,  which 
my  name  had  not  .reached  in  which  I  did  not  receive 
good,  and  evil  treatment.  The  clergy  and  their  connex- 
ions were  generally  inveterate  enemies;  while  those,  who 
had  will  and  power  to  act  for  themselves,  and  chanced  to 
be  favorably  impressed,  were  very  warm  in  their  attach 
ments.  Thus  my  friends  were  very  cordial,  and  my 
enemies  very  malignant;  and,  as  my  enemies  were  gen- 
erally at  a  distance,  and  my  friends  at  my  elbow,  but  for 
officious  individuals,  who  brought  me  intelligence  of  all 
they  heard,  I  might  have  gone  on  my  way  with  abundant 
satisfaction.  At  Brunswick,  which  I  had  been  earnestly 
solicited  to  visit,  I  was  received  into  a  most  worthy  family. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Dunham  was  of  the  Seventh-day  persua- 
sion; amanof  r€ial  integrity,  who,  although  he  could  not 
see,  as  I  saw,  threw  open  the  doors  of  his  meeting- 
house; conducted  me  into  his  pulpit;  and  discharged 
toward  me,  in  every  particular,  the  duty  of  a  Christian. 
His  neighbv>r,  a  clergyman,  who  was  a  First-day  Baptist, 
exhibited  a  con.plete  contrast  to  Mr.  Dunham.  He  in- 
vited me,  it  1^  true,  to  his  house;  asked  me  to  lodge 
there;  we  conve.ved  together,  prayed  together,  he  ap- 
peared very  kind,  a^^d  much  pleased,  and  I  believed  him 
my  confirmed  friena  until,  leaving  Brunswick,  I  .called 
upon  some,  whose  den.^rtment  to  me  was  the  reverse  of 
what   it   had  heretofore  been.     I   demanded   a   reason; 

when  they  frankly  informed  me,  that  the  Rev.  Mr. 

had  made  such  representations,  as  had  destroyed  all  the 
pleasure,  they  had  been  accustomed  to  derive  from  my 
presence.  This  affected  me  beyond  expression,  a  stran- 
ger as  I  was;  and,  suffering  in  the  dread  of  what  I  had 
to  expect,  I  turned  from  the  door  of  those  deceived 
persons,  without  uttering  a  word.  I  quitted  their  habi- 
tations forever;  invidious  remarks  were  made  upon  my 
silence;  but  of  these  I  was  careless;  6n  other  occasions 
I  might  have  been  affected,  but  treachery  from  a  man, 
14* 


158  X.IFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

who  had  entertained  me  so  hospitably,  and  who  stood  so 
high  in  the  ranks  of  piety,  shocked  me  beyond  the 
power  of  utterence.  Upon  the  afternoon  of  this  day,  on 
which  I  had  been  so  deeply  hurt,  I  was  engaged  to  de- 
liver my  peaceful  message  in  the  pulpit  of  Mr.  Dun- 
ham, in  the  vicinity  of  this  perfidious  man.  Some  time 
had  elapsed  since  I  had  seen  him,  and  I  then  met  him 
upon  the  road;  he  advanced  toward  me  with  an  extended 
hand,  and  a  countenance  expressive  of  Christian  affec- 
tion: 'You  are  a  great  stranger,  sir.'  Yes,  sir,  lama 
stranger,  and  sojourner,  in  every  place,  as  all  my  fathers 
were  before  me.  'Well,  how  have  you  been,  since  I 
saw  you?'  Thanks  be  to  God,  I  have  been  preserved 
and  owned,  and  blessed,  notwithstanding  the  slanders 
of  the  adversary,  and  his  agents.  He  saw  he  was  de- 
tected, and  he  determined  immediately  to  drop  the  mask. 
'  Well,  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  obstruct  your  pro- 
gress in  every  place.'  Had  you,  sir,  made  this  declara- 
tion at  an  earlier  period,  I  should  at  least  have  believed 
you  an  honest  man.  But  to  pass  yourself  upon  me  as 
my  friend,  while  you  were  aiming  at  me  a  vital  stab ! 
Oh  sir,  I  am  astonished  at  you.  '  And  I  am  more  astonish- 
ed at  you;  do  you  not  tremble,  when  you  think  that  God 
must  have  a  quarrel  with  you?  and  that  all  His  ministers 
in  America  hate  you  ?'  Sir,  I  do  not  believe  my  Creator 
is  a  quarrelsome  Being,  neither  do  I  credit  the  informa- 
tion, that  all  God's  ministers  hate  me;  a  minister  of  God 
is  incapable  of  hating  any  human  being.  '  But  are  you 
not  confounded,  when  you  consider,  that  you  must  be 
right,  and  we  wrong;  or  you  wrong,  and  all  God's  min- 
isters right?  Surely,  it  is  more  probable  we  should  be 
all  right,  and  you  wrong,  than  you  right  and  we  all 
wrong.'  I  have  no  apprehensions  upon  this  head;  some 
one  might  have  questioned,  in  the  days  of  Elijah,  when 
he  was  opposed  by  eight  hundred  and  fifty  prophets:  '  Do 
you  not  tremble  to  see  all  these  holy,  and  reverend  priests 
on  one  side,  and  you  alone  on  the  other?  either  they  must 
be  wrong,  and  you  right,  or  you  wrong,  and  they  right.' 
So  in  Jerusalem,  our  divine  Master  might  have  been 
asked :  '  Are  you  not  appalled  at  beholding  all  the  minis- 
ters of  God,  all  the  rulers  of  the  people,  in  opposition  ? 
Either  they  must  be  wrong,  and  you  right,  or  you  wrong, 
and  they  right;  and  which,  pray,  is  the  most  probable? 
And  the  people  might  have  been  asked :  '  Have  any  of 
our  rulers  believed  on  him?  He  is  a  Devil,  and  mad, 
why  hear  ye  him?'  'I  am  astonished  at  your  daring 
blasphemy,  in   comparing  yourself  either  to  Elijah,  or 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  159 

Christ.'  Why,  was  not  Elijah  a  man  of  like  passions 
with  us?  and  are  we  not  taught  to  put  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?  Who  is  it  that  asks,  If  they  have  called  the 
Master  of  the  house  Beelzebub?  what  ought  the  servants 
of  his  household  to  expect?  Elijah  is  a  member  in  the 
same  body  with  me;  but  the  Redeemer  is  still  nearer; 
He  is  my  head,  the  head  of  every  man;  He  indulges  me 
-with  the  privilege  of  denying  myself,  my  sinful  self,  and 
he  allows  me  to  acknowledge  no  other  than  his  blessed 
self;  that,  thus  standing  in  his  name,  I  may  stand  in  the 
presence  of  the  Father,  the  Divinity,  with  exceeding  joy; 
that,  asking  in  the  name  of  his  immaculate  humanity, 
I  may  be  sure  to  receive,  that  my  joy  may  be  full.  Nor 
can  all  that  you,  nor  any  one  else  can  say,  be  able  to 
shake  me  from  this  my  strong  hold.  '  Ay,  perhaps  you 
may  be  inistaken — ^you  may  be  deceived.'  If  1  am  de- 
ceived, I  am  deceived;  but  I  will  venture.  '  You  know 
this  is  not  the  privilege  of  all,  and  therefore  it  may  not  be 
yours.'  I  do  not  know  that  this  is  not  the  privilege  of  all; 
but,  if  it  be  of  any,  it  is  of  the  believer;  and,  as  1  believe, 
it  must  be  mine.  They  shall,  said  my  divine  Master,  say 
all  manner  of  evil  of  you  falsely.  You,  sir,  have  been  in 
Brunswick,  fulfilling  this  scripture;  and  I  rejoice,  that  I 
have  made  the  discovery.  You  can  never  deceive  me 
again;  but  as  I  am  not  naturally  suspicious,  others  may 
obtain  a  lease  of  my  good  opinion,  from  which  they  will 
never  but  upon  the  strongest  conviction,  be  ejected.  I  left 
*this  good  man  beyond  measure  enraged;  and,  no  doubt, 
believing  he  should  really  render  God  service,  by  doing 
me  the  most  essential  injury.  I  immediately  repaired  to 
the  pulpit  of  my  friend  Dunham,  where,  preaching  peace, 
I  recovered  my  lost  serenity;  audit  gladdened  my  heart 
to  believe,  that  the  inveterate  enemy,  with  whom  I  had 
parted  upon  the  road,  was  included  in  the  redemption  it 
was  my  business  to  proclaim. 

But  now  again,  my  heart  failed  me—again  I  sickened 
at  the  prospiect  before  me,  and  my  whole  soul,  revoking 
from  a  continuance  in  public  life,  I  once  more  fled  to  my 
beloved,  my  sequestered  home,  I  sighed  ardently  for 
my  eniancipation.  Of  that  God,  who  was,  in  Christ;  re- 
conciling the  world  unto  himself,  I  entertained  not  the 
smallest  dread.  But  my  coward  spirit  trembled  before  a 
combination  of  religious  characters,  headed  by  the  clergy 
and  armed  for  my  destruction.  Their  zeal  was  mani- 
fested by  their  industriously  propagating  a  variety  of  evil 
reports.  I  would  detail  them  were  they  not  so  numer- 
ous.    And,  although  all  manner  of  evil   had  not  yet 


160  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

been  said  of  me,  enough  was  said  to  implant  a  dread 
of  some  overwhelming  termination.  Thus  my  aversion 
to  the  path,  into  which  I  had  been  pressed  became  more 
imposing.  I  was  ready  to  say,  Lord,  send,  by  whom 
thou  wilt  send,  and  in  mercy,  vouchsafe  to  grant  me  my 
final  exit  from  those  surrounding  scenes,  which  embo- 
eom  the  retirement  of  my  friend.  Often  have  I  wept 
as  I  traversed  the  woods  and  groves  of  my  patron,  at 
the  thought,  that  I  could  be  indulged  with  the  felicity 
of  passing  the  remainder  of  my  days  amid  those  sylvan 
scenes;  especially  as  it  was  the  wish  of  the  liberal  master 
that  I  should  so  do.  I  became  apprehensive,  that  my 
trials,  in  this  new  world,  would  surpass  those,  which  1 
had  encountered  in  the  old.  These  agonizing  anticipa- 
tions prostrated  me  before  the  throne  of  the  Almighty, 
imploring  his  protection;  and  from  this  high  communi- 
cation with  my  Father  God,  my  griefs  have  been  assuag- 
ed and  my  wounded  spirit  healed.  Urged  by  a  strong 
sense  of  duty,  I  again  visited  Upper  Freehold,  to  which 
place  I  had  been  repeatedly  summoned.  My  acquaint-^ 
ance  there  was  large  and  respectable,  but  it  was  the  resi- 
dence of  a  high-priiest,  Avho  treated  me  roughly.  1  was 
asked  to  breakfast  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  congregation, 
without  the  most  remote  hint,  that  I  was  to  meet  this  great 
man;  but  I  was  hardly  seated,  when  he  was  observed 
making  his  approaches;  and,  from  some  expressions  of 
surprise,  I  was  induced  to  believe  he  was  totally  unex- 
pected. I  was  astonished  to  see  so  many  assembled;  but 
supposed,  that  curiosity  to  see  the  strange  preacher  of 
so  strange  a  doctrine,  had  drawn  them  together.  I  was 
however,  afterwards  assured,  that  the  plan  had  been 
previously  concerted.  Mr.  Tennant  entered.  We  were 
introduced  to  each  other.  He  drew  a  chair  into  the 
midst  of  the  circle;  and  commanding  into  his  countenance 
as  much  stern  severity,  as  he  could  collect,  he  commenc- 
ed his  studied  operations.  ^I  want  to  know,  sir,  by 
what  authority  you  presume  to  preach  in  this  place?  'Pray^ 
sir,  by  what  authority  do  you  thus  presume  to  question 
me?,  '  I  am,  sir,  placed  here,  by  Almighty  God,  to  look 
after  the  affairs  of  his  church,  and  people;  and  I  have 
a  right  to  insist  on  knowing  who,  and  what  you  are,?' 
Well,  sir,  if  you  be  placed  here,  as  the  vicegerent  of 
Heaven,  you  should  take  care  how  you  conduct;  you 
have  a  great  charge,  and  your  responsibility  is  propor- 
tioned to  its  magnitude.  But,  sir,  I  am  not  assuming; 
I  have  no  design  upon  your  people;  I  am  like  a  person 
in  the  time   of  harvest,  who  steps  into  the  field,  and 


LIFJC    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  161 

binds  up  some  sheaves,  making  no  demand  upon  the 
proprietor  of  the  grounds.  I  have  never  attempted  to 
scatter  your  sheep,  I  have  not  even  plucked  a  Jock  of 
their  wool.  1  do  not  wish  to  govern,  I  only  aim  at  being  a 
help.  *I  do  not  like  you  a  bit  the  better  for  all  thb 
stuff.  I  insist  on  knowing,  whether  you  came  in  at  th% 
door?'  I  wish  to  know,  sir,  what  door  you  mean?  'I 
mean  the  door  of  the  church j  all,  who  come  not  in  at 
that  door,  are  thieves  and  robbers.  'But,  sir,  I  would 
know,  what  church  you  mean?  The  pope  declares, 
there  is  no  true  church,  save  the  one  of  which  he  is  the 
head.  The  Episcopal  bishop  affirms,  there  is  no  true 
church,  but  that  of  which  the  king  is  the  head.  Do 
you,  sir,  mean  either  of  these?'  'No,  sir,  I  mean  the 
true  church.  Did  you  come  in  at  that  door?'  If,  sir, 
you  do  not  tell  me,  what  you  mean  by  the  true  church, 
how  can  I  answer  you  respecting  the  door?  '  Sir,  I  will 
have  no  evasions.  Did  you,  or  did  you  not,  come  in  at  the 
door?'  Jesus  Christ  says:  '  I  am  the  door;  by  me,  if  any 
man  enter,  he  shall  be  saved.'  Do  you  mean  this  door, 
sir?  'No,  sir,  I  mean  the  door  of  the  church.'  Is  not 
Jesus  Christ  the  door  of  the  church,  sir?  'No,  sir.' 
Well,  sir,  although  there  be  many  preachers,  who  have 
not  entered  at  this  door,  you  will  not,  I  trust,  esteem  a 
preacher  the  less,  for  having  the  privilege  to  go  in  and 
out  at  this  door.  '  Sir,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  this; 
I  wish  to  know,  whether  you  have  church  authority  for 
preaching?  that  is,  whether  you  came  properly  in  at  the 
door?'  Sir,  I  have  the  same  authority  for  preaching 
which  the  apostle  Paul  had;  he  received  his  mission  by 
the  will  of  God,  so  have  I.  '  Ay,  sir,  give  us  the  same 
miracles  Paul  wrought,  and  we  will  believe  you.'  If  the 
power  of  working  miracles  were  necessary  to  prove  a 
right  to  preach  the  gospel,  perhaps  you,  sir,  would  be 
also  at  a  loss  to  prove  your  own  right,  either  to  preach, 
or  thus  to  question  a  fellow  creature.  'Sir,  you  are  a 
deceitful,  hypocritical  man.  If  you  had  come  properly 
in  at  the  door,  I  should  have  received  you;  but  you  are 
an  impostor,  I  pronounce  you  an  impostor.'  That  is 
more  than  you  know,  sir,  and  I  add,  more  than  I  know 
myself;  but  if  we  cannot  agree  about  the  church  and  the 
door,  blessed  be  God !  we  can  agree  in  one  fundamen- 
tal point:  While  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  Jesus  died 
for  us,  and  while  we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to 
God  by  the  death  of  his  Son.  The  old  gentleman  start- 
ed from  his  seat,  and,  running  round  the  apartment, 
exclaimed,  in  a  loud  and  thundering  voi«e,  to  those  who 


16$J  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MITRRAY. 

were  without:  '  Come  in,  and  hear  gibberish,  gibberish, 
gibberish.'  I  was  astonished,  and  when  he  had  so  far 
spent  his  rage,  as  to  remain  for  one  moment  silent,  I 
looked  full  in  his  fiiee,  and  asked:  Pray;  sir,  what  lan- 
g»ngQ  do  you  make  use  of  ?  Is  it  possible,  that  you,  a 
clergyman,  highly  distinguished,  the  head  of  the  Pres- 
bytery, and  now  in  the  evening  of  life,  should  be  so  lit- 
tle acquainted  wkh  the  scriptures,  as  to  call  the  language 
of  revelation,  gibberish?  '  You  know  nothing  about  rev- 
elation; their  never  was  an  individual  of  the  human 
race,  that  ever  had  any  interest  in  Christ,  or  in  God, 
until  they  had  repentance  and  faith.'  Pardon  me,  sir: 
you  do  not  believe  this  yourself.  ^  I  say^  I  do.  Excuse 
me,  sir;  you  certainly  do  not.  '  Give  me  leave  to  tell 
you,  you  have  a  great  deal  of  impudence,  thus  to  talk  to 
me.'  Nay,  sir,  I  do  not  wish  to  offend;  I  wish  you  to 
re-consider  your  assertion ;  I  am  confident,  you  do  not 
believe  it;  and  I  am  confident,  you  will  have  the  good- 
ness to  own  it,  before  I  quit  this  apartment.  '  Let  me 
tell  you  young  man  you  have  the  greatest  stock  of  assur- 
ance, I  have  ever  met  with  in  any  young  person.  I 
tell  you  again,  there  never  was  an  individual  of  the  hu- 
man race,  who  left  this  world  without  faith  and  repent- 
ance, v^rho  ever  had  any  interest  in  Christ,  or  ever  tasted 
happiness.'  Not  one.'^  'No  sir,  not  one.'  Oh!  sir,  I 
am  very  sorry  you  compel  me  to  make  you  to  retract  this 
affirmation.  Turning  to  the  company,  he  required  them 
to  say,  whether  they  did  not  think  my  insolence  surpass- 
ed credibility.''  The  company  were  silent,  and,  after  a 
pause,  I  said:  I  know,  sir,  if  you  believe  Calvinistic 
principles,  you  believe  some  infants  may  be  eternally 
lost;  but  no  Calvinist  denies,  that  some  infants  are  in- 
terested in  Christ,  and  eternally  blessed,  although  they 
passed  out  of  time,  without  repentance  or  faith.  '  Sir, 
I  never  thought  of  infants.'  So  I  imagined;  and  it  was 
therefore,  sir,  I  took  the  liberty  to  say,  you  did  not  believe 
what  you  advanced.  '  But  I  believe  it  with  respect  to  all 
besides  infants'.  No,  sir,  pardon  me,  you  do  not.  Again 
he  was  exceeding  angry,  until  I  mentioned  idiots.  '  I 
did  not  think  of  idiots.'  I  believe,  you  did  not;  but,  my 
good  sir,  would  it  not  be  as  well,  if  you  were  always  to 
think,  before  you  speak?  '  Again  I  say,  I  am  astonish- 
ed at  your  impudence;  I  could  not  have  believed  a  young 
man,  like  you,  could  have  had  so  much  impudence.'  I  dare 
say,  sir,  you  are  disappointed;  you  expected  to  have 
met  a  timid,  poor,  destitute  stranger,  who  would  have 
been  confounded  by  noise,  and  such  cogent  arguments, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  16S 

as  gibberish,  gibberish,  repeatedly  vociferated;  you  ex- 
pected, I  should  not  have  dared  to  utter  a  syllable;  you 
have  been  pleased  to  treat  me  very  roughly;  you  know 
not,  but  you  have  been  pouring  vinegar  into  wounds 
already  sore:  you  have,  sir,  been  vexiiag  the  stranger; 
and  without  any  provocation  on  my  part.  '  Ay,  ay,  this 
is  the  language  of  all  impostors.' 

Thus  ended  my  morning  repast,  I  was  very  much 
hurt,  yet  1  reaped  advantage  from  this  new  trial.  Re- 
turning to  my  lodgings,  I  experienced  the  most  painful  sen- 
sations, but  the  rebuff,  I  had  received,  operated  as  usual, 
it  drew  me  nearer  to  my  God,  and,  pouring  out  my  heart 
ill  secret  before  the  Father  of  my  spirit,  I  obtained  what 
the  favor  of  the  clergy  could  never  give — consolation  and 
peace  in  believing. 

My  conduct  at  this  breakfasting  conference  was  repre- 
sented in  such  a  point  of  view,  as  increased  the  number 
of  my  friends;  and  clerical  gentleman,  in  this  place  and 
lis  environs,  forbore  direct  attacks;  but  the  tongue  of  the 
private  slanderer  was  busily  employed.     A  gentleman  of 

C ,  the  Rev,  Mr.  S ,  repeatedly  attended  my 

public  labors;  addressed  me  after  preaching,  continued 
some  time  in  conversation  with  me,  and  appointed  a  day, 
on  which  he  pressed  me  to  dine  with  him.  I  accepted 
his  politeness  with  gratitude,  and  was  punctual  to  the 
time.  Mr.  S received  me  with  manifest  satisfac- 
tion; we  were  alone,  and  we  passed   many  hours  most 

pleasantly.     Mr.  S •  seemed  solicitous,  that  I  should 

view  him,  neither  as  a  sceptic,  nor  a  caviller,  but  simply 
an  enquirer  after  truth.  He  asked  me  many  questions, 
which  I  answered  as  clearly  as  I  was  able;  and  he  ap- 
peared sometimes  dissatisfied,  sometimes  silenced.  Upon 
the  whole,  his  deportment  was  gentlemanly,  and  I  could 
not  forbear  regarding  him,  as  a  sensible  illumined  Chris- 
tian.    On  my  departure   he   urged   me  to   consider  his 

house  my  home,  whenever  I  visited  C ;  waited  on 

me  while  I  mounted  my  horse,  pressed  my  hand,  and, 
with  much  apparent  devotion,  supplicated  the  blessing  of 
Heaven  upon  me.  On  recurring  to  my  journal,  I  find 
my  notice  of  this  interview  concluded  as  follows ;  Thus 
far  am  I  brought  on  my  way  rejoicing;  the  Lord  is  my  Sun 
and  Shield;  blessed  be  the  name  of  ray  God!     Yet  no 

sooner  was  I  out  of  view,  than  this  same  Mr.   S 

ordered  his  horse,  and  posting  to  every  respectable  fa- 
mily in  his  parish,  informed  them,  that,  with  all  my 
eunnins;^  he  had  outwitted  me;  that  he  had  asked  me 
to  dine,  and,  by  Jtattery  and  carresses,  had  thrown  me 


164  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

off  my  guard,  and  obtained  a  complete  knowledge  of  my 
principles.  Well,  dear  sir,  and  what  are  his  principles ?' 
O !  truly  shocking !  horrid !  most  horrid !  I  dare  not  re- 
late them,  you  shall  not  be  contaminated  by  the  recital j 
it  would  be  dangerous  in  the  extreme.  Nor  was  this 
enough.  Being  a  member  of  the  Presbytery,  he  wrote  a 
circular  letter,  addressing  every  leading  associate,  which 
effectually  steeled  all  hearts,  and,  so  far  as  his  influence 
extended,  barred  every  door  against  me.  C  alumnies  of 
various  descriptions  were  disseminated;  rancor  became 
uncommonly  prolific;  astonishing  efforts  were  made  to 
destroy  my  reputation;  but  God  was  with  me,  and  his 
spirit  was  my  never-failing  support.  In  the  midst  of  these 
fiery  trials,  1  passed  on :  succeeding  weeks  and  months 
rolled  away,  while  my  days  were  appropriated  to  my 
beloved  home,  to  different  parts  of  the  Jersies,  Philadel- 
phia, New  York,  and  many  of  the  intervening  towns, 
scattered  between  those  cities. 

In  the  commencement  of  the  Autumn  of  1773,  I  was 
strongly  induced  to  journey  as  far  as  Newport,  in  Rhode- 
Island;  and  having  dropped  a  tear,  at  parting  with  my 
faithful  friend,  I  commended  him  to  the  care  of  Heaven, 
and  began  my  new  tour  of  duty.  The  chilly  mornings 
and  evenings,  of  even  the  first  autumnal  month,  gave  me 
to  experience  the  want  of  an  outside  garment.  I  was, 
however,  determined  not  to  solicit  human  aid;  this  I  be- 
lieved, would  be  taking  the  business  out  of  the  hand  of 
my  Master.  If  God  had  sent  me,  he  would  put  it  into 
the  hearts  of  his  people  to  supply  me;  yet  I  did  not  cal- 
culate, that  this  want  would  be  supplied,  until  I  reach- 
ed New  York.  I  believed  I  had  in  that  city  a  friend, 
who  would  derive  pleasure  from  administering  to  my 
necessities.  But  when  I  was  preparing  to  leave  Bruns- 
wick, a  person  entered  the  parlor,  displayed  a  number 
of  patterns,  requested  I  would  make  a  choice  for  a 
great-coat;  and  asked,  how  long  I  should  tarry  in  town? 
I  told  him,  I  should  leave  town  early  on  the  succeeding 
morning:  'Well,  sir,'  he  returned,  'your  coat  shall  be 
ready,'  I  asked,  by  whom  he  was  sent.''  'Sir,  I  was 
ordered  not  to  say  by  whom.'  It  is  very  well,  I  know 
who  sent  you.  'Do  you,  sir.-*'  Yes,  sir,  it  was  God, 
my  Father;  who,  having  all  hearts  in  his  hand,  has 
stimulated  your  employer.  Early  the  following  morn- 
ing, the  coat  was  brought  home;  I  was  deeply  affected, 
and  laying  my  hand  upon  it,  I  said:  Henceforward  thou 
shalt  be  my  monitor;  whenever  I  feel  my  heart  despond- 
ing, in  silent,  but  persuasive  language,  thou  shalt  say: 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MITRRAY,  165 

*  Cast  thy  care  upon  God,  for  he  careth  for  thee,'  It 
was  not  so  much  the  supply  of  this  pressing  want,  that 
pleased  me,  as  the  recognition  of  the  immediate  hand 
of  paternal  Deity,  who  thus  vouchsafed  to  own  and  bless 
my  mission.  On  my  arrival  in  New  York,  I  learned, 
to  my  great  astonishment,  that  the  friend,  on  whom  my 
hopes  of  a  winter  garment  had  rested,  was  become  my 
enemy!  I  was  greatly  pained,  he  was  very  dear  to  me; 
but  a  religious  slanderer  had  been  at  his  ear,,  and 
had  prejudiced  him  against  me.  I  lost  him  forever — 
alas!  alas!  how  many  such  losses  have  I  sustained, 
since  I  became  a  promulgator  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus, 

Leaving  New  York,  I  postponed  my  journey  to  New- 
port, passed  through  East  Jersey,  and  stopped  at  Amboy, 
where  I  had  many  friends.  Sitting  one  evening  at  tea 
with  a  lady,  she  complained,  that  her  maid  had  quitted 
her,  having  been  seduced  from  her  duty,  by  a  foot  soldier. 
This  immediately  reminded  me  of  Mrs.  Trinbath,  the 
poor  unhappy  lady,  at  whose  house,  in  Cork,  I  had,  in 
company  with  Mr.  Whitefield,  and  others,  been  so  splen- 
didly entertained.  I  related  the  mournful  tale,  when  the 
lady  assured  me  she  knew  the  unhappy  creature;  she  had 
seen  her  in  Amboy,  and  that  she  was  now  in  New  York 
in  a  most  wretched  situation.  I  immediately  conceived 
a  hope,  that,  if  I  could  obtain  an  interview  with  her,  I 
might  prevail  upon  her  to  return  to  her  widowed  mother, 
and  to  her  children;  and  although  her  husband  was  no  more, 
she  might  yet,  in  some  measure,  retrieve  the  past.  Alas  I 
alas !  I  did  not  calculate,  that  I  was  thus  making  provi- 
sion for  the  most  serious  calamity,  which,  during  my 
sojourn  in  this  new  world,  had  until  then  overtaken  me. 
The  following  day,  intent  on  my  purpose,  I  took  passage 
in  the  packet  for  New  York;  accompanied  by  the  Ser- 
jeant major  of  the  regiment  to  which  the  fellow  be- 
longed, with  whom  this  deluded  woman  lived.  I  asked 
him,  if  he  knew  such  a  person  ?  Yes,  he  knew  her,  and 
she  was  in  a  very  wretched  condition,  I  sighed  from  the 
inmost  recesses  of  my  soul,  while  I  listened  to  his  account 
of  her  manner  of  living.  I  begged  to  know  if  I  could  see 
her.  Yes,  he  could  conduct  me  to  her  abode;  but  on  our 
arrival,  passing  over  the  common,  near  the  gaol,  to  the 
residence  of  this  poor  creature,  we  chanced  to  meet  her 
infamous  seducer,  who,  not  having  heard  of  the  death  of 
Mr.  Trinbath,  immediately  concluded  I  was  that  injured 
husband,  come  to  reclaim  my  wretched  wanderer.  Un- 
der this  impression,  he  hastened  home,  and  effectually 
15 


166  LIFE    OF    REV,    JOHN    MURRAY. 

secreted  her,  before  we  reached  the  door.  I  was  disap- 
pointed,  but  I  informed  a  poor  creature  in  the  house, 
that  I  would  call,  upon  the  ensuing  day,  at  one  o'clock,. 
v,'hen  I  hoped  I  might  obtain  an  interview.  I  was,  the 
next  day,  punctual  to  the  appointment;  but,  instead  of 
the  misguided  woman,  I  received  a  letter,  directed  to  Mr. 
Trinbath,  entreating  most  earnestly,  that  I  would  not  at- 
tempt to  see  her  ;  that,  after  treating  me  as  she  had  done, 
she  never  would  see  me  more:  and  that,  if  I  persisted  in 
pursuing  her,  she  would  leave  the  city,  and,  taking  with 
her,  miserable  children,  they  would  all  perish  together, 
for  she  would,  rather  than  meet  my  eye,  suffer  a  thousand 
deaths.  I  was  beyond  measure  shocked  at  this  letter;.  I 
saw  the  absolute  necessity  of  seeing  and  convincing  her 
of  her  error;  but  how  was  this  to  be  effectuated?  I 
could  devise  no  plan.  I  told  the  old  woman,  it  was  a 
most  capital  mistake;,  that  I  was  not  the  person  she  sup- 
posed. O,  said  she,  you  need  say  nothing  about  that,  sir; 
every  body  knows  you  are  her  husband,  and  every  body 
pities  you,  poor  gentleman,  that  you  should  have  such  a 
wife;  but  she  has  bad  advisers,  and  I  dare  say,  if  you 
can  see  and  forgive  her,  (and  every  body  says,  that  if 
you  did  not  intend  to  do  so,  you  would  never  have  sought 
her,)  she  will  again  be  a  very  good  woman.  I  was  pro- 
voked beyond  endurance;  but  every  appearance  of  irrita 
tion  was  imputed  to  my  disappointment,  and  consequent 
resentment.  My  soul  was  harrowed  up  by  agonizing 
distress;  unable  to  convince  the  old  Avoman,  I  returned 
to  my  lodgings.  My  friends  perceived  the  anguish  of  my 
spirits,  for  which  they  were  well  able  to  account;  they, 
however,  carefully  avoided  the  subject.  At  last,  not 
being  able  to  control  my  emotions,  I  burst  into  tears.. 
They  were  alarmed.  '  What  is  the  matter? '  I  circum- 
stantially related  the  whole  story,  and  dwelt  upon  my 
sufferings,  consequent  upon  my  inability  to  see  Mrs. 
Trinbath,  and  convince  her  of  her  mistake.  My  friends 
appeared  relieved,  and  proposed  my  writing  to  her,  and 
leaving  it  at  her  lodgings;  she  will  see  it  is  not  the  hand- 
writing of  her  husband.  The  propriety  of  this  measure 
was  obvious;  I  asked  the  gentleman,  if  he  would  accom- 
pany me?  'Most  gladly.*^  I  wrote  immediately,  labor- 
ing to  Convince  this  unfortunate  woman  of  her  error, 
and  assuring  her,  that  my  friend,  Mr.Trinbath,  had  been 
many  years  dead;  that  if  she  would  but  give  me  a  meet- 
ing, for  a  single  moment,  she  would  acknowledge  she 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  me.     This  letter  was  ineffectual  j 


triFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURIlAr.  .      J,67 

she  was  positive  it  was  all  a  deception,  and  that,  with,  a 
view  of  deceiving  her,  I  had  employed  some  other  pen. 

This  story  was  a  sweet  morsel  to  my  religious  foes.  ,  It 
was  painted  in  the  most  odious  colors,  and  industriously 
exhibited.  They  declared,  the  woman  was  unquestiona- 
bly my  wife;  and  that,  on  account  of  the  treatment  she 
had  received  from  her  barbarous  husband,  she  had  pre- 
ferred putting  herself  under  the  protection  of  a  common 
soldier;  that  she  had  attended  church,  upon  a  lecture 
evening,  and  upon  seeing  me,  her  husband,  in  the  pulpit, 
she  had  shrieked  aloud,  and  fainted.  This,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  falsehoods,  were  circulating  through  the  city. 
My  humane  friends,  at  length,  interfered;  they  solicited 
the  commanding  officer  to  oblige  the  fellow,  with  whom 
the  woman  lived,  to  pi'oduce  her;  she  approached  with 
dread  apprehension;  a  large  company  was  collected, 
spectators  of  the  scene.  She  caught  a  glance,  and  ex- 
claiming, in  a  tremulous  accent,  It  is,  it  is  he — imme- 
diately fainted.  Curiosity,  and  humanity,  combined  to 
recover  her;  she  was  led  into  the  parlor ^  I  appeared  full 
before  her,  entreating  her  to  take  a  view  of  my  face;  she 
did  so,  and  no  words  can  express  her  confusion;  her  ac- 
knowledgments were  repeated  and  copious;  she  did  not 
recollect,  ever  to  have  seen  me  before.  I  was  most  hap- 
py in  the  result  of  this  untoward  business,  which  had 
nearly  annihilated  my  anxiety  respecting  her .  restoration 
to  her  connexions.  Indeed  I  was  assured,  no  entreaties 
would  procure  her  return  to  Cork.  So  many  had  wit- 
nessed an  ecclaircisement,  so  honorable  to  me,  that  I 
fondly  believed  it  would  be  attached  to  the  narration;  but 
alas !  there  was  not  a  thousandth  part  of  the  pains  taken 
to  publish  the  truth,  as  had  been  taken  to  spread  far  and 
wide  the  slander;  here  it  was  the  still  voice  of  friendship; 
there  it  was  Slander  with  her  thousand  tongues.  None 
but  God  can  tell,  hoAv  much  I  have  suffered,  from  the 
various  trials,  I  have  encountered.  Again,  I  mournfully 
acknowledged,  that  my  object  in  coming  to  America  was 
not  in  any  view  obtained;  that  my  grand  desideratum 
appeared  further  and  further  from  my  reach;  again  I 
wished  most  ardently  to  be  in  England;  yea,  in  the  very 
scenes  from  which  I  had  escaped,  if  I  might  thus  be  de- 
livered from  the  distracted  situation,  in  which  I  was  in- 
volved; and  the  more  I  contemplated  the  indignation,  and 
Eower  of  the  clergy,  the  more  frequently  I  exclaimed, 
doubtless  I  shall  one  day  perish  by  the  hand  of  my  ene- 
my. Yet,  in  the  darkest  night  of  my  affliction,  my  gra- 
cious God  frequently  vouchsafed  to  grant  me  peace  and 


168  LIFE   OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAT. 

joy  in  believing  that  His  almighty  power  was  sufficient 
for  me;  and,  in  the  pulpit,  whatever  was  my  previous 
situation,  either  mental,  or  coporeai,  when  engaged  in 
the  investigation  of  divine  truth,  I  was  not  only  tranquil 
but  happy:  And  this  happiness  I  often  enjoyed;  for  an 
ardent  curiosity  obliged  the  people  every  where  to  hear; 
and,  when  a  pulpit  could  not  be  obtained,  a  private 
house,  a  court-house,  a  wood,  answered  the  purpose;  and 
t  rejoiced,  while  contemplating  the  irradiations  of  divine 
truth,  bursting  through  the  dark  clouds  of  prejudice,  and 
with  such  imposing  splendor,  and  could  only  be  effectu- 
ated by  Omnipotent  power. 

I  received  frequent  and  most  pressing  invitations  to 
visit  New-England.  During  my  residence  in  New  York, 
I  became  known  to  many  gentlemen  of  Connecticut;  and 
I  was  requested  to  stop,  and  deliver  my  testimony  in 
various  places,  along  the  road.  I  resumed  my  purpose 
of  visiting  Newport,  determining  to  proceed  thither  with 
all  possible  despatch.  I  had,  however,  promised  to  stop 
at  a  friend's  house,  in  Milford,  and  at  another's,  in  Guil- 
ford; at  which  places  I  preached  to  very  large  congrega- 
tions; several  strangers,  having  seen  me  elsewhere, 
recognized  me,  and  entreated  me  to  accompany  them  to 
their  respective  homes;  but  my  object  was  Newport. 
Many  individuals,  from  Norwich,  departed  from  Guilford 
with  me;  they  gave  me  to  understand,  that,  having  made 
part  of  my  audience,  on  the  preceding  evening,  they 
were  extremely  desirous  I  should  proceed  with  them  to 
Norwich.  We  passed  the  day  very  agreeably  together, 
conversing  with  great  freedom.  About  sunset,  we  reach- 
ed New-London,  where  it  was  my  resolution  to  bid  my 
new  associates  adieu;  but  they  so  earnestly  importuned 
me  to  go  on,  one  gentleman  in  particular,  that,  accepting 
his  proffered  kindness,  I  was  that  night  lodged  in  his  hos- 
pitable dwelling.  He  soon  became,  and  ever  after  con- 
tinued, my  steadfast  friend.  Many,  in  Norwich,  received 
me  with  great  kindness;  a  house  of  worship  was  provid- 
ed; but  it  not  being  sufficiently  spacious,  the  doors  of  the 
great  meeting-house  were  thrown  open,  and  never  after- 
wards shut  against  me.  Thus,  in  this  instance,  the  zeal 
of  the  people  has  been  sufficiently  imposing,  to  prevail 
against  ministerial  opposition.  The  Friends  I  obtained, 
in  Norwich,  were,  in  truth,  inestimable;  some  individuals 
are  not  yet  called  home;  they  remain  unwavering  in  the 
belief  of  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus;  and  in  their  affection- 
ate attachment  to  its  feeble  advocate.  At  Norwich,  I 
was  solicited  to  preach  in  the  meeting-house  of  Mr.  Hart, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  f^^^ 

of  Preston;  to  which  place  many  of  my  new  friends 
accompanied  me.  Having  passed  the  night  at  Preston, 
on  the  succeeding  morning,  1  recommenced  ray  journey, 

with  the  Rev.  Mr.  H ,*  of  Newport.     The  ilistance 

was  between  30  and  40  miles;  but  as  Mr.  H ,  was 

going  Jiome,  he  would  not  stop  to  dine  on  the  road.     In 

the  course  of  the  day,  Mr.  H thus  questioned  me; 

'Well,  sir,  I  suppose  you  will  preach  in  Newport.'" 
Very  likely,  sir.  '  You  have  friends  there,  T  presume .'" 
No,  sir,  I  do  not  know  a  single  soul.  '  You  have  letters 
of  recommendation,  perhaps  ? '  Not  a  line,  sir.  *  Where 
then  do  you  intend  to  go,  and  what  do  you  intend  to  do  .'* ' 
I  have  laid  no  plans,  sir.  '  I  promise  you,  you  shall  not 
preach  in  my  meeting.'  I  should  be  very  much  surpris- 
ed, if  1  did,  sir.  '  And  I  suppose,  you  think  you  are 
called  of  God,  to  go  to  Newport?'  I  think  it  is  not  un- 
likely, sir.  '  I  believe,  you  will  find  yourself  mistaken.' 
It  is  possible.  '  Suppose  you  should  find  no  place  to 
preach  in,  wiiat  would  you  do  then?'  Devote  myself  to 
private  conversation.  '  But,  suppose  you  could  find  no 
one  to  converse  with?'  Then  I  would  turn  about,  and 
come  back  again.  '  But  what  would  you  think  of  your 
faith?'  Call  it  fancy.  But  at  present,  I  think  I  shall 
preach  the  gospel  in  Newport;  and,  although  I  am  an 
utter  stranger,  knowing  no  one,  noj*  known  by  any  one; 
yet  I  expect,  before  I  leave  the  place,  to  have  many 
friends.  'Ay,  these  are  fine  fancies  indeed.'  Had  you 
not  better  suspend  your  decision  until  you  witness  the 
result?  will  it  not  then  be  full  time  to  determine,  whether 
it  he  faith  or  fancy?  '  If  it  should  not  be,  as  I  predict,  I 
should  not  be  ashamed  to  own  my  error:  if  it  should,  you 
ought  to  blush  for  your  unwarrantable  confidence.  '  But 
as  it  is  not  impossible,  you  may  preach  in  that  city,  and 
that  some  of  my  people  may  be  among  the  number  of 
your  hearers,  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  question  you.'  If 
God  will  give  me  leave  to  preach  to  his  people,  I  am 
content.  'What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?'  Your  ob- 
servation brought  to  my  mind,  what  on  a  certain  occasion, 
a  very  distinguished  servant  of  God  said  to  his  master, 
when  he  was  told  to  go  down  and  see  what  his  people 
were  doing.  O  Lord,  they  are  not  my  people,  they  ar^ 
thy  people.     However,  Moses  was  not  settled  on  your 

*  Nearly  the  whole  of  this  conversation  was  published  in  the  first 
volume.  Letter  Fourth,  of  '  Letters,  and  Sketches  of  Sermons.'  In- 
stead of  the  letter  A.  the  letter  H  ...,  which  was  the  original  a.nd  true 
initial,  is  now  substituted. 

13* 


170  LIFE   OF   REV.   JOHN   MURRAY. 

plan. ,  '  Well,  sir,  I  look  upon  my  people  to  be  God's 
people.'  Sfou  are  perfectly  right,  sir,  so  indeed  they  are: 
and  if  I  speak  to  them  at  all,  I  shall  speak  to  them,  in 
that  character.  '  Well,  sir,  as  you  call  yourself  a  preach- 
er of  the  gospel,  and  may,  as  I  have  said  preach  to  my 
people;  it  is  proper  I  should  know  what  ideas  you  have 
of  gospel.  Tell  me,  sir,  what  is  gospel?'  I  am  happy 
in  being  able  to  give  you  a  direct  answer.  The  gospel, 
sir,  is  a  solemn  declaration,  given  upon  the  oath  of  Je- 
hovah, that,  in  the  Seed  of  Abraham,  all  the  nations 
should  be  blessed.  *  Is  that  all  you  know  of  gospel? 
Would  it  not,  my  good  sir,  require  a  very  long  time  to 
inform  mankind,  who,  and  what,  that  Seed  is;  how,  and 
in  what  manner  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  are,  and  shall 
be  blessed  therein^  and  w^hat  blessings  they  are  blessed 
with,  in  Christ  Jesus?  The  apostle  Paul,  although  he 
labored  more  abundantly,  than  his  brethren,  found  this 
vast,  this  important  subject,  abundantly  sufficient  for  his 
whole  life;  and  those,  who  are  blessed  in  that  Seed,  will 
find  the  contemplation  of  that  blessedness,  which  they 
shall  be  blessed  with,  in  Him,  sufficient  to  furnish  a  song, 
which,  although,  never  ending,  will  be  ever  new.  *  If 
such  be  your  views,  you  know  nothing  at  all  of  gospel.' 
You  could  not  so  absolutely  determine  this  matter,  if  you 
yourself  were  not  acquainted  with  the  meaning  of  the 
term,  gospel.  Tell  me  then,  sir,  if  you  please,  what  is 
gospel?  '  Why,  sir,  this  is  gospel :  He,  that  believeth, 
shall  be  saved,  and  he,  that  believeth  not  shall  be 
damned.'  Indeed,  sir,  I  had  thought,  the  literal,  simple 
meaning  of  the  term  gospel  was,  glad  tidings.  Which 
part  of  the  passage  you  have  cited,  is  gospel,  that  which 
announces  salvation,  or  that  which  announces  damnation? 
'Well  then,  if  you  please  this  is  gospel:  He  that  believ- 
eth shall  be  saved.'  Believeth  what,  sir?  '  That.'  What, 
sir?  That  I  tell  you.  What,  sir?  '  That,  I  tell  you:  He 
that  believeth,  shall  be  saved.''  Believeth  what,  sir  ?  What 
is  he  to  believe?  *  Why  that,  I  tell  you.'  I  wished,  sir, 
to  treat  this  investigation  seriously;  but,  as  you  seem  to 
be  disposed  to  be  rather  ludicrous,  we  will,  if  you  please, 
dismiss  the  subject.  '  No,  sir,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  ludi- 
crous; I  am  very  serious.'  Well,  sir,  if  so,  then  I  beg 
leave  to  ask,  what  is  it  I  am  to  believe;  the  believing  of 
which  will  save  me?  '  That  Jesus  Christ  made  \X possible 
for  sinners  to  be  saved.'  By  what  means?  '  By  believing.' 
Believing  what?  'That.'  What?  '  That  Jesus  Christ 
made  it  possible  for  sinners  to  be  saved.'  By  what  means 
is  it  possible  that  sinners  may  be  saved?    '  By  believing,  I 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURJIAY.  171 

tell  you.'  But  the  devils  believe;  will  their  believing  save 
them?  '  No,  sir.'  Suppose  I  believe,  that  Jesus  Christ 
made  it  possible  to  save  sinnersj  will  that  save  me? 
^No,  sir.'  Then,  sir,  let  me  ask,  what  am  I  to  believe, 
the  believing  of  which  will  save  me  ?  '  Why,  sir,  you 
must  believe  the  gospel,  that  Jesus  made  it  possible  for 
sinners  to  be  saved.'  But,  by  what  means ?  '  By  believ- 
ing,' Believing  what?     ^  That,  I  tell  you.' 

Mr.  H could  not  but  be  conscious  the  ground  he 

had  taken  was  untenable.  Had  he  answered  in  scripture 
language,  that  the  truth  to  be  believed,  and  which  we 
make  God  a  liar  by  not  believingy  was  thnt  Christ  had 
given  himself  a  ransom  for  all^  to  be  testified  in  due  time; 
that  he  had  absolutely  tasted  death  for  every  man;  and  that 
every  man  should  be  made  alive  in  Christ  Jesus,  &c.  &c., 
the  inference  was  unavoidable,  nor  man,  nor  devil  could  un- 
do, what  God  had  done;  the  power  exists  not,  "which  can 
set  aside  the  decrees  of  God.  If  the  Redeemer  did  not 
taste  death  for  all;  if  He  has  not  purchased  all;  then 
those,  for  whom  He  has  not  tasted  death,  whom  he  has 
not  purchased,  have  no  right  to  believe  He  has;  and 
were  they  so  to  believe,  they  must  indubitably  believe  a 

lie.     But,  finding  the  temper  of  Mr.   H rise  higher 

and  higher,  every  tirtio  I  repeated  my  question;  I  endea- 
vored to  bring  the  matter  to  a  conclusion,  by  observing, 
that  I  was  astonished  to  find  a  master  in  Israel,  and  a 
writer  too,  either  not  able,  or  not  willing  to  answer  a 
simple  question,  viz:  what  I  am  to  believe  is  the  founda- 
tion of  my  salvation?  what  am  I  to  believe  procures  my 
justification  in  the  sight  of  God?  « And  I  am  astonished 
at  your  blasphemy.'  This  is  in  character,  sir;  men  of 
your  description  were  long  since  fond  of  fixing  this  charge 
on  both  the  Master,  and  his  witnesses;  but,  remember, 

sir,  if  I  have  blasphemed,  it  is  only  Mr.  H  *^ ,  whom  I 

have  blasphemed.  '  Well,  sir,  I  beheve  I  have  gone  too 
far;  I  will,  if  you  please,  take  back  the  charge.'  With 
all  my  heart,  sir.  '  I  do  not  doubt,  you  may  be  admired 
in  Newport  a  whole  fortnight.'  That  no  doubt  will  be 
fourteen  days  longer  than  you  would  wish.      Arriving  in 

sight  of  Newport,  Mr.  H said:  'There  sir,  is  my 

meeting-house;  at  a  little  distance  from  thence  is  my 
dwelling-house,  and  my  friends  are  multiplied.'  Well, 
sir,  I  have  no  home,  meeting-house,  nor  friend,  in  New- 

Eort.  Yet,  I  repeat,  before  I  leave  that  city,  I  expect  to 
ave  more  than  one  home,  and  many  friends.  '  Well, 
now  I  think  of  it,  there  is  one  man,  who  has  a  little  place, 
in  which,  possibly,  you  may  get  leave  to  preach;  I  will 


172  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHK    MURRAY, 

direct  you  to  a  man,  who  has  some  acquaintance  with 
him.'  I  will  thank  you,  sir,  to  inform  me  where  my 
horse  may  be  taken  care  of;  for  myself,  I  have  little 
concern.  '  I  promise  you,  horse-keeping  is  very  high 
in  Newport.'  That,  sir,  is  very  sad  tidings  to  me, 
for  I  promise  you,  my  finances  are  very  low.  Some 
very  bitter  speeches  were  made;  and  I  regretted,  that  I 
was  so  unfortunate,  as  to  have  taken  the  journey  with 

Mr.  H .     Your  people,  said  I,  are  leavened  with  the 

leaven  of  the  Pharisees,  and  you  seem  to  be  leavened 
with  the  leaven  of  Herod.  '  What  do  you  mean  by  the 
leaven  of  Herod? '  I  mean  the  nature  of  Herod  'How 
does  that  apply?'  Some  persons  urged  our  Master  to 
fly,  in  consequence  of  Herod's  seeking  his  life.  Go, 
said  He,  tell  that  fox,  I  work  to-day  and  to-morrow  &c. 
&.C.  Our  Master  denominated  Herod  a  fox,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  an  idea  of  his  nature.  What  is  a  fox?  a 
creature  that  lives  upon  the  spoil;  but  he  is  dependent 
upon  the  secrecy  of  the  night,  and,  we  are  told,  in  order 
the  more  effectually  to  cover  his  designs,,  he  sometimes 
imitates  the  watch-dog,  thus  endeavoring  to  make  it  ap- 
pear, he  is  defending  the  property  of  the  husbandman, 
while,  under  the  guise  of  watchful  care  for  others,  ho  is 
covertly  acting  for  himself,  till  the  morning  dawns,  till 
the  light  appears,  and  then  his  labor  ends.  This  is  the 
leaven  of  Herod,  and  it  was  of  the  nature  of  this  insidious 
animal,  that  our  Lord  cautioned  his  disciples  to  beware. 
'  Well,  there  is  something  ingenious  in  that  I  confess.' 
We  reached  the  ferry  a  little  before  sunset,  and  on  land- 
ing at  Newport:  '  There  said  Mr.  H ,  pointing  to  a 

small  shop.  If  you  will  call  on  that  man,  he  will  give  you 
direction.'  I  walked  on,  stopped  at  the  door,  and  hold- 
ing the  bridle  in  my  hand,  asked  the  man  behind  the 
counter,  if  he  would  be  so  obliging  as  to  inform  me, 
which  was  the  best  inn  for  keeping  horses?  '  Please  to 
walk  in,  sir.'  T  fastened  my  horse  and  entered  the  shop, 
and  seeing  the  man  look  very  gloomy,  and  hearing  him 
sigh  very  bitterly,  I  concluded  he  must  be  under  the  pres- 
sure of  some  heavy  calamity;  and,  as  no  woman  appear- 
ed, I  suspected  the  poor  fellow  must  have  lost  his  wife, 
and  my  sympathies  were  very  powerfully  excited.  I  was 
however  solicitous  about  my  horse,  and  again  requested 
the  requisite  information.  '  Do  not  make  yourself  uneasy, 
sir,  my  little  boy  will  be  here  in  a  few  moments,  when  I 
will  send  him  with  your  horse,  and  you  will  be  so  oblig- 
ing as  to  tarry  here,  and  drink  tea;  my  wife  is  out  of 
town,  and  of  course  things  will  not  be  so  well,  as  if  she 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  .  ITS 

were  here.'  I  was  very  much  relieved  by  this  intelli- 
gence,  and  sat  down.  '  How  far  have  you  travelled  to- 
day, sir.'' '  From  Preston,  in  Connecticut,  sir.  '  Did  you 
come  alone,  sir.'' '     No,  sir,  I  came  in  company  with  a 

Mr,  H ,  one  of  your  teachers  j  I  parted  with  him  at 

the  ferry.  '  Did  he  not  ask  you  to  his  house.? '  No,  sir. 
Well,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  believe,  there  is  not  another 
man  in  this  town,  who  would  have  been  so  deficient;  you 
must,  however,  tarry  here  tO-night,.  and  we  will  take  es- 
pecial care  of  your  horse.'  You  are  very  obliging,^  sir; 
but  I  had  rather,  if  you  please,,  attend  to  my  horse  my- 
self. '  Will  you,  sir,  be  so  good,,  as  to  leave  this  matter 
to  me,  and  take  some  refreshment  yourself.''  You  are  a 
public  character,  and  I  have  been  accustomed  to  attend 
to  public  characters^  How  do  you  know  I  am  a  public 
character?  there  is  nothing  in  my  appearance^  which  in- 
dicates it. 

'  The  moment  you  came  to  my  dx>or,  it  seemed  as  if 
some  one  had  said,^  The  person  who  addresses  you  is  a 
preacher  ;  take  kind  notice  of  him  ;  and  I  immediately 
determined  to  obey  the  impulse.'  This  instance  of  pro- 
vidential care  nearly  overpowered  me,  I  was  the  mote 
affected  by  thisbrief  manifestation,  as  it  closed  a  very  dark 
day.  It  spoke  to  my  wounded  mind,  the  language  of 
assurance  ;  my  Divine  Master  was  with  me,  and  had 
prepared  the  heart  of  this  man  to  receive  me,  and  this 
soothmg  consideration  gave  me  inexpressible  pleasure. 
Had  I  been  in  a  clerical  dress,  or  had  the  smallest  ves- 
tige of  those  habiliments  been  discernible,  I  should  have 
believed  those  externals  had  produced  their  effect.  But, 
divested  as  I  was;  of  every  thing  which  could  speak  to  the 
eye,  I  could  not  but  greatly  rejoice  in  this  instance  of  recog- 
nising goodness,  and  my  full  soul  glowed  with  fervent 
and  devotional  gratitude.  My  cup  of  tea  was  mingled 
with  my  tears;  but  they  were  tears  of  joy,  of  sacred  rap- 
ture. It  was  like  the  priest  leaving  me,  and  the  good 
Samaritan  taking  me  up;  and  the  oil  and  wine,  thus 
poured  into  my  lacerated  bosom,  was  most  salutary,  truly 
refreshing. 

My  kind  host  summoned  a  number  of  his  friends  to 
pass  the  evening;  they  all  appeared  very  gloomy,  and  I 
had  sympathy  for  their  situation.  After  being  introduc- 
ed, they  continued  for  some  time  silent,  and  sighed  in 
their  turns  very  bitterly.  Those  sighs,  however,  although 
signs,  were  not  proofs,  of  sorrow;  ft  was  the  custom  for 
very  religious  people  to  be  very  melancholy,  and  these 
were  very  religious  people;  so  much  so,  that  I  afterwards 


174  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

discovered,  there  was  no  Bociety  in  town,  with  which 
they  could  conscientiously  associate.  It  was  proposed,  I 
should  narrate,  ray  experiences,  that  they  might  judge  if  I 
were  a  child  of  God.  1  very  readily  accommodated  myself 
to  their  wishes,  and  gave  them  a  sketch  of  some  memmo- 
rable  scenes  in  my  life.  When  I  closed,  a  profound 
silence  interrupted  onl}^  by  sighs,  succeeded;  at  last,  one 
affinned,  I  was  not  a  child  of  God,  my  experiences  were 
not  of  the  true  kind,  he  could  not  go  with  me;  a  second 
pronounced,  I  was  a  child  of  God,  for  he  felt  me  as  I 
proceeded.  Being  thus  divided,  they  knew  not  on  what 
to  determine;  at  last,  it  was  proposed  to  apply  to  Mr. 

D for  his  meeting-house.    This  was  the  very  place 

pointed  out  by  Mr.  H .     I  knew  his  design  was  to 

ruin  me,  and  therefore,  without  hesitation,  I  said  I  did 
not  feel  a  freedom  to  sp6ak  in  the  proposed  place  Well, 
would  I  preach  in  the  room,  in  Avhich  we  were  sitting; 
many  had  so  done,  and  why  not  me?  This  also  I 
rejected,  it  was  too  much  confined.  They  pronounced 
me  very  difficult;  they  did  not  believe,  I  should  find  any 
other  place.  I  assured  them,  I  was  not  anxious  in  this 
respect.  If  God  had  sent  me,  he  would  provide  a  place 
for  me;  if  he  had  not,  I  was  willing  to  return,  whence  I 
came.  '  Perhaps  God  has  provided  you  a  place  by  di- 
recting us  to  make  these  offers.'  No,  sir,  if  God  had 
directed  you  to  make  these  offers,  and  had  thought  proper 
I  should  deliver  my  message  in  either  of  the  places  men- 
tioned, he  would  have  disposed  my  heart  to  embrace 
them;  but  this  \  feel  He  has  not  done.  They  pronounced 
me  very  odd,  and  took  their  leave;  but  the  master  of  the 
house,  and  one  of  his  friends,  conceiving  there  was  some- 
thing uncommon  in  me,  my  manner,  and  my  matter, 
continued  with  me  in  conversation  the  greater  part  of 
the  night,  and,  although  I  had  travelled  all  day,  yet  I 
found  no  inconvenience  from  this  additional  fatigue. 

After  breakfast  on  the  ensuing  day,  I  walked  round 
the  town,  and  was  much  pleased  Avith  its  situation;  its 
harbor,  and  perspective  views,  delighted  me,  and,  al- 
though a  stranger,  with  only  a  few  shillings  in  my 
pocket,  my  bosom  was  as  tranquil,  as  if  in  my  own  res- 
idence, and  master  of  thousands.  Blessed  be  God!  I 
have  never  yet  experienced  much  solicitude  about  this 
world,  or  the  gifts,  which  it  has  to  bestow.  It  never 
entered  my  head,  or  heart,  that  I  should  not  be  suppli- 
ed with  whatever  was  necessary  for  me;  I  had  fared 
hard,  and  I  could  again  accommodate  myself  to  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  life — yea,  and  without/ a  murmur.     I  con- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  175 

tinued  perambulating  the  streets,  until  the  hour  of  dining, 
when  1  returned  to  my  lodgings.  '  Well,  sir,  the  com- 
mittee of  Dr. 's  meeting  have  been  here,  to  engage 

you  to  supply  their  pulpit  to-morrow, — Sunday, — and 
they  will  call  for  your  answer  in  the  evening.'  I  was, 
I  confess,  astonished;  but  the  evening  produced  the 
committee,  and  I  acceded  to  their  wishes.  One  of  the 
gentlemen  pressed  me  to  return  with  him,  and  take 
up  my  abode  at  his  house,  during  my  continuance  in 
Newport;  I  did  so,  and  was  soon  domesticated  in  his 
family,  which  continued  my  occasional  home  for  many, 

very  many  years.     Doctor  S was  absent,  and  it 

was  the  business  of  the  committee  to  supply  the  desk, 
till  his  return;  my  appearance  was  opportune,  and  the 
peojDle  were  generally  pleased.  I  was  requested  to  pub- 
lish a  lecture  for  the  next  day.  J  did  so,  and  the  con- 
gregation was  crowded,  and  attentive.  I  informed  the 
audience,  that  I  purposed  tarrying  in  Newport  two  weeks, 
during  which  time  I  was  ready  to  unite  with  them,  in 
consulting  the  sacred  writings,  as  often  as  they  pleased; 
but,  if  I  delivered  any  more  lectures,  it  must  be  in  the 
evening;  my  reason  for  which  was,  that  there  were 
many  laboring  persons,  who  could  not  attend,  without 
loss  of  time, — and  loss  of  time  to  them,  was  loss  of  prop- 
erty. I  was  then  informed,  that  when  Mr.  Whitefield 
was  last  there,  the  parish  had  passed  a  vote  against 
evening  lectures.  I  replied:  The  parish  has  an  indubi- 
table right  to  adhere  to  their  vote,;  but  they  must  excuse 
me,  if  1  thought  it  my  duty  to  abide  by  my  determination. 
The  parish  met,  re-considered  their  vote,  and  request- 
ed me  to  preach  in  the  evening.  Here  then  I  preached, 
every  evening,  until  the  Doctor's  return;  to  whom  my 
kind,  honest  hosi,  requested  me  to  accompany  him  on  a 
visit,  insisting  upon  my  promising,  that  I  would  return 
with  him.  Simple  man,  because  he,  a  hearer,  was  pleas- 
ed, he  conceived  his  minister  would  also  be  pleased,  and 
that  he  would  press  me  to  abide  at  his  house  ;  I  prom- 
ised him,  and  he  exulted  in  having  gained  his  point. 
The  Doctor  received  me  with  cool  civility;  asked  me  a 
great  many  questions;  spoke  of  my  pulpit  talents,  in  the 
way  I  expected  he  would  speak  of  them;  and  finally  ex- 
pressed regret  that  he  could  not  ask  my  assistance  on  the 
ensuing  day, — Sunday, — as  there  were  so  many  individ- 
uals who  would  be  offended.  My  friend  was  astonish- 
ed. I  was  not.  My  friend  observed,  there  was  but  one 
in  the  congregation,  who  was  opposed  to  my  preaching 
in  their  meeting-house;  and,  he  added,  if  I  did  not  preach. 


176  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

the  people  would  be  greatly  disappointed.  The  Doctor 
would  not  hear  him,  and  we  parted,  without  my  receiv- 
ing even  an  invitation  to  repeat  my  call.  My  guileless 
host  expressed  great  surprise.  '  So  good  a  man  as  the 
Doctor;  why,  I  imagined,  he  would  have  taken  you  into 
his  arms,  and  never,  if  he  could  help  it,  have  permitted 
you  to  lodge  any  where  but  under  hjs  roof.'  From  this 
moment,  I  had  much  to  grieve  me  in  Newport,  for,  al- 
though my  friends  were  numerous,  and  my  enemies  but 
few,  yet  those  few  were  uncommonly  industrious. 

On  Monday  morning,  one  of  the  committee,  who  had 
first  engaged  me  to  preach,  called  upon  me  at  my  lodg- 
ings; and  informed  me,  that  there  came  on  Saturday  night,, 
from  New  York,  a  reverend  divine,  who  had  given  me 
a  most  horrid  character;  he  had  said  many  things,  which 
he  hoped  and  believed  were  not  true.  Pray,  sir,  where 
is  this  good  man?  'He  is,  sir,  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Rogers,  father  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rogers.'  Will  you,  sir, 
call  upon  this  gentleman  with  me .''  '  Certainly,  sir,  but 
j^ou  had  better  first  take  breakfast.'  By  no  means,  I 
may  miss  him,  and  I  want  to  see  him  in  your  presence; 
We  hurried  off  immediately,  but  alas!  he  had  left  town 
at  break  of  day;  he  had  just  cast  out  firebrands,  arrows, 
and  death,  and  withdrawn  from  the  investigation,  upon 
which  he  had  reason  to  calculate.  The  parade  was  full  of 
people;  the  reports  ran  like  wild  fire;  fame  had  blown 
the  trumpet  of  slander,  and,  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Rog- 
ers, many  were  assembled..  I  regretted,  that  the  rever- 
end calumnrator  had  flown:  I  wished  to  be  tried  in  the 
presence  of  the  people.  I  requested,  however,  that  they 
would  exhibit  the  charges,  lodged  against  me.  They 
did  so,  and  they  consisted  of  the  following  items: — 1st,  I 
had  fonnerly  labored  for  my  living:  2dly,  I  was  a  mar- 
ried man;  3dly,  I  had  children;  4thly,  I  had  been  a  stage 
player;  and  5thly,  I  had  sung  songs.  Upon  which  I  ob- 
served: Perhaps  my  denial  of  these  charges  may  answer 
little  purpose;  yet,  as  in  the  presence  of  heaven,  you  will 
allow  me  to  say,  that,  although  I  have  made  some  unsuc- 
cessful attempts  to  obtain  an  honorable  competency,  yet 
I  have,  alas  1  and  it  is  with  extreme  sorrow  I  make  the 
declaration,  I  have  in  this  world,  neither  wife  nor  child; 
I  solemnly  assure  jou,  I  never  was  an  actor  upon  any 
stage;  I  ackowledge  I  have  sung  songs,  I  was  once  pro- 
nounced a  good  singer;  yet  I  do  not  recollect,  that  I  ever 
sang  any  bad  songs,  indeed  I  have  been  so  long  out  of 
the  habit  of  song-singing,  that  I  do  not  remember  what 
songs  I  have  sung.     I  do  not,  however,  admit,  that  if 


LIFE    OF   REV,    JOHN    MITRRAT,  177 

these  charges  could  be  substantiated,  they  ought  to  cri- 
minate me.  It  cannot  be  a  crime  to  laborj  Six  days 
shalt  thou  labor.'  The  apostle  Paul  labored  with  his 
own  hands.  Many  of  you  are  married  menj  many  of 
you  have  children;  many,  in  pursuit  of  business,  quit  for 
a  season  both  wives  and  children  j  and  if  I  had  relin- 
quished the  stage  for  the  life  of  a  religionist,  it  should 
be  considered  as  a  testimony  in  my  favor.  With  regard 
to  song-singing,  while  music  makes  a  part  even  of  divine 
worship,  a  sentimental  song  could  not  be  supposed  detri- 
mental to  the  interests  of  morality.  I  requested  to  know, 
if  there  were  any  other  charges;  and  was  answered  with 
a  murmur  of  applause,  '  none,  sir,  none.'  The  tide  now 
turned  in  my  favor,  and  the  people  were  astonished,  that 
they  had  annexed  the  smallest  consequence  to  those  re- 
ports. 

I  had  now  in  Nev/port  a  very  respectable  circle  of 
friends,  and  the  occurrence,  thus  briefly  recorded,  aug- 
mented their  affectionate  attentions.  As  a  testimony 
how  little  they  regarded  it,  they  made  a  party  to  go  out 
in  a  number  of  carriages,  and  pass  the  day  upon  the 
island;  and  most  delightfully  did  we  enjoy  ourselves. 
We  left  town  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult;  but  those  who 
were  present  at  the  examination,  mingling  with  their 
fellow  citizens,  gave  them  an  account  of  what  had  pass- 
ed, and  it  was  generally  considered,  as  a  plan  to  bar 
their  pulpit  against  me;  this  irritated  them  and  they 
determined  it  should  not  succeed.  They  dispatched  a 
message  to  me;  I  could  not  be  found.     I  returned  in  the 

evening,  and  received,  by  the  sexton  of  Doctor  S 's 

meeting,  an  address,  signed  by  a  large  number  of  influen- 
tial characters,  earnestly  requesting  I  would  upon  that 
evening,  deliver  a  lecture.  I  consented;  the  bell  an- 
nounced my  consent;  the  congregation  assembled,  and 
the  house  was  very  full.  I  selected  my  subject  from 
Isaiah  '  Who  hath  believed  our  report.'  I  was  divinely 
supported;  my  heart  was  very  full;  gratitude  glowed  in 
my  bosom,  gratitude  to  that  Being,  who  had  upon  this, 
as  well  as  upon  many  former  occasions,  so  conspicuously 
appeared  for  me. 

Among  other  valuable  acquisitions,  which  crowned  my 
labors  in  Newport,  was  the  friendship  of  Mr.,  afterwards 
General  Varnum,  who  gave  me,  upon  the  succeeding 
morning,  a  letter  to  Mr.  N.  Brown,  of  Providence,  for 
which  place  I  departed.  Mr  Brown  received  me  with 
much  civility,  and  distinguished  me  by  many  acts  of  kind- 
ness.    The  Rev.  Mr.  Snow's  meeting.-house  was  thrown 


1T§'  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN    MITRRAT- 

open.;,  the  congregations  in  Providence  were  large,  I  ac- 
quired many  respectable  friends,  and  my  visit  was  truly 
pleasing.  1  contemplated  extending  my  tour  as  far  as 
Boston,  but  the  season  being  far  advanced,  I  postponed 
my  purpose,  and  hastened  back  to  my  pleasant  home. 
Visiting  my  friends  upon  the  road,  I  did  not  reach  the 
dwelling  of  ray  patron^  until  the  winter  was  at  the  door. 
This  enduring  friend  began  to  fear  he  should  eventually 
lose  me;  and  in  truth  the  pressing  calls,  made  upon  me, 
allowed  me  but  little  leisure  to  tarry  with  him..  In  the 
course  of  this  winter,  I  made  many  visits  ;  but  my  little 
stock  of  money  was  nearly  exhausted..  Had  I  consented 
to  the  mode  of  collecting,  then  in  practice,  such  was  the 
zeal  of  my  hearers,  that  1  might  have  amassed  large  sums;^ 
but  I  had  no  family,  I  did  not  want  money,  I  believed  I 
should  be  less  noxious  as  a  preacher,  if  I  levied  no  tax- 
es upon  the  people;  and  I  was  ambitious  of  being  able  to 
ask,  Whose  ox,  or  whose  ass  have  I  taken.''  Still,  as  I 
proceeded,  the  rancor  of  the  clergy  pursued  me;  this 
pained  me  to  the  soul,  and  I  have  passed  many  agonizing 
hours,  originating  from  this  inveterate  source.  I,  how- 
ever, veiled  those  scenes  of  sorrow  from  the  eye  of  the 
many;,  in  fact„  when  engaged  in  conversation,  I  so  un- 
reservedly enjoyed  my  friends,  that  I  ceased,  for  the  time 
being,  to  reflect  upon  my  enemies  or  their  enmity.  I 
never  left  home,  without  increasing  both  the  number  of 
my  friends  and  my  enemies;  and  they  were,  individual- 
ly and  collectively,  very  much  in  earnest,  while  every 
attempt  to  oppose  the  progress  of  truth  became,  in  the 
hand  of  God,  subservient  to  the  purpose  of  opening  the 
eyes  of  the  people. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  January  of  1773,  that  a  most  im- 
portunate solicitation  drew  me  to  Philadelphia;  and,  hav- 
ing frequently  visited  that  city,  I  had  many  opportunities^ 
with  strangers,^  collected  there.  Many  bore  with  them  to 
their  respective  homes,  such  an  account  of  my  doctrine 
and  my  manner,  as  excited  much  curiosity.  I  was  repeat- 
edly and  earnestly  urged  to  proceed  to  Maryland;  an 
eminent  physician,  by  repeated  letters,  reiterated  his  solici- 
tations. A  sense  of  duty  imperiously  insisted  upon  my 
accepting  every  invitation  of  the  kind,  to  the  extent  of 
my  power,  and  I  consequently  determined  upon  an  im- 
mediate comnvencement  of  my  journey  to  Maryland; 
accordingly  my  horse  was  produced  at  the  door,  when  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  had  no  money.  Well  and  what 
then?  said  I.  'You  will  not  think  of  a  journey  in  such, 
circumstances?'  said  cold-hearted  Prudence.     1  certainly 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAlT,  179 

will.  *  But  how  are  you  to  get  through  a  strange  country, 
in  which  you  have  no  acquaintance?'  For  shame;  is 
this  a  time  for  these  remarks?  Do  you  not  know,  that 
God  Almighty  can,  at  all  times,  and  in  every  place,  open 
the  heart;  and  that,  if  He  be  disposed  to  do  any  thing  with 
me,  or  by  me,  he  will  most  assuredly  bring  me  on  my 
way?  *  But  had  you  not  better  let  your  friends  in  this 
city  know  your  circumstances?  They  will  unquestiona- 
bly make  provision  for  you.'  But  this  would  be  leaning 
upon  an  arm  of  flesh  ;  it  would  be  making  provision  for 
myself.'  *  What  will  you  do  at  the  first  stage ?  you 
will  not  be  able  to  purchase  any  thing,  either  for  your- 
self, or  jour  horse.'  If  I  meet  with  no  support.  I  will 
return  immediately;  by  this  I  »hall  know,  if  it  be  the 
Avill  of  God  I  should  proceed.  .  *  And  will  you  really 
go  on  in  this  way?'  Most  assuredly;  and  I  was  on  the 
point  of  mounting  my  horse,  when  a  gentleman  crossed 
the  street.  Are  you  going  out  of  town.,  sir?'  Yes  sir. 
^How  far,  pray:  which  way?'  To  Maryland,  sir,  to 
visit  a  place,  which,  as  I  am  told,  is  eighty  miles  from 
4:his  city.  *  Are  you  going  alone,  sir?'  I  am,  sir.  '  I 
wish  I  had  known  of  your  determination  one  hour  since, 
I  would  certainly  have  accompanied  you  part  of  the  way.' 
Well  sir,  you  can  do  that  now;  if  you  please,  I  will  wait 
an  hour.  '  Will  you?  then  I  will  get  ready  as  soon  as 
.possible.'  The  gentleman  was  punctual;  in  less  than  an 
hour  he  was  on  horseback;  and  we  commenced  our  jour- 
ney together.  We  passed  on  to  Chester,  delighted  with 
our  ride,  and  dined  luxuriantly  at  one  of  the  best  inns  in 
the  country.  Here  I  expected  my  fellow  traveller  would 
quit  me;  and  prudence  again  questioned :  ■'  Will  you  not 
either  return,  or  make  known  your  situation?'  I  will  do 
neither;  I  will  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  the  God 
of  my  salvation.  Our  horses  were  ordered  out,  again  we 
proceeded  together,  and  our  conversation  was  interesting, 
animated,  delightful.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we 
made  a  second  stage;  here,  said  my  companion,  I  had  de- 
termined to  leave  you,  but  I  find  I  am  not  able;  I  must 
proceed.  We  went  on  until  evening,  when  we  put  up  at 
the  house  of  a  friend  of  my  fellow  traveller,  in  Newark. 
This  town  contained  an  academy,  in  the  hall  of  which  I 
afterwards  preached.  We  spent  the  night  most  agreea- 
bly, and  although  I  expected  to  pursue  the  residue  of  my 
journey  alone,  my  slumbers  were  unbroken  through  the 
night,  and  I  arose  happy  in  the  thought,  that  I  was  ena- 
bled to  cast  my  care  upon  God. 


180  LIFE    OP   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

i 

Here  my  friend,  after  commending  me  to  the  protection 
of  Heaven,  bade  me  adieu.  I  tarried  until  breakfast  was 
over,  when  I  requested  my  horse :  it  was  brought  to  the 
door.  I  took  the  bridle  in  my  hand.  Prudence  again 
was  ready  with  her  expostulations :  '  Well,  and  what  are 
you  to  do  now  ?  you  have  been  thus  far  brought  on  by 
an  obliging  friendj  you  have  fifty  miles  more  to  ride, 
through  a  country,  not  an  individual  in  which  you  have 
ever  seen,  and  you  have  not  a  penny  in  your  pocket.^ 
Again,  I  say,  am  I  not  here,  as  in  Philadelphia,  under 
the  care  of  that  beneficent  Being,  who  holds  the  universe 
in  His  hand?  I  will  go  on.  Just  as  I  raised  my  foot  to 
the  stirrup,  the  master  of  the  house  appeared.  '  One 
word,  sir,  if  you  please;  step  in  for  a  moment.'  I  once 
more  entered  the  hospitable  dwelling.  *  You  will,  I  hope, 
excuse  me,  sir;  but,  ever  since  I  left  my  bed  this  morning, 
I  have  been  strongly  excited  to  do,  what  however  I  am 
afraid  to  mention,  and  what  I  had  concluded  I  would  not 
venture  to  do.  But  when  I  saw  you  in  the  act  of  mounting 
your  horse,  I  could  no  longer  withstand  an  irresistible 
impression,  which  impels  me  to  ask  your  acceptance  of 
this  trifle:' — putting  into  my  hands  abundantly  sufficient 
to  bring  me  to  the  end  of  my  journey.  *  You  may  not 
want  this,  sir;  but  you  may  meet  with  some  individual, 
who  does.'  Could  my  spirit,  at  this  moment  forbear 
ecstatic  prostration  before  the  throne  of  my  God,  my 
Father?  This  was  manifestly  another  instance  of  the 
interposition  of  my  Divine  Master.  It  was  He,  who  has 
the  hearts  of  all  in  His  hand,  that  had  thus  disposed  the 
heart  of  this  man.  I  could  not  forbear  felicitating  him 
on  being  appointed  to  distribute.  1  communicated  to 
him  my  real  circumstance,  while  tears  of  pleasure  gushed 
into  his  eyes.  He  would  then  have  made  an  addition  to 
the  gratuity;  but  this  I  resolutely  refused:  I  had  enough 
for  my  present  purpose,  and  more  than  enough  would 
have  been  burdensome.  I  went  on  from  this  place,  with 
inexpressible  delight,  my  soul  warmly  disposed  to  mag- 
nify the  Lord,  and  to  trust  Him  at  all  times  not  being 
afraid.  My  faith,  by  these  manifestations  thus  invigorat- 
ed and  renewed,  I  rejoiced  in  the  good  pleasure  of  my 
God;  my  way  was  made  clear  before  me,  and  I  nothing 
doubted  that  my  journey  would  be  crowned  with  success. 
This  day  was  indeed  a  happy  day,  I  shall  certainly 
never,  so  long  as  memory  shall  continue  its  office,  recur 
to  it  without  the  most  pleasurable  emotions. 

Upon  the  evening  of  this  memorable  day,  I  arrived  at 
the  end  of  my  journey,  and  I  was  received  by  the  physi- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MUXRAY.  *  181 

cian,  whose  letter  of  earnest  solicitation  had  brought  me 
thus  far,  with  many  demonstrations  of  joy.  I  was,  how- 
ever greatly  surprised,  to  find  a  person,  who  I  understood 
was  master  of  a  large  fortune,  plain,  if  not  penurious, 
both  in  his  house,  furniture,  and  apparel;  but,  if  I  was 
disappointed  by  the  appearance  of  the  man  and  his  dwell-, 
ing,  I  was  abudantly  more  so,  by  his  conversation,  from 
which  I  learned,  that  he  had  been  imposed  upon  by  the 
accounts  he  had  received  of  me;  he  had  been  made  to  be- 
lieve I  was  for  matter  and  manner,  a  second  Whitefield. 
My  heart  sunk,  as  I  reflected  what  I  had  to  expect  from  a 
gentleman  thus  circumstanced.  I  beheld  before  me  a 
self-righteous  Calvinist:  and  I  believed,  when  he  discov- 
ered (as  I  was  determined  he  immediately  should)  the 
amount  of  my  testimony,  he  would  sincerely  repent,  that 
he  had  summoned  me  to  his  abode,  and  that  I  should,  in 
consequence,  have  much  to  suffer.  The  house  afforded 
no  spare  bed,  and,  of  course,  I  lodged,  I  cannot  say  slept, 
with  my  host.  The  whole  night  was  devoted  to  conver- 
sation, and  I  embraced  the  first  pause  to  inform  him,  that 
I  once  viewed  the  Deity,  and  the  creature  man,  precisely 
as  they  now  appeared  to  him;  but  that  a  complete  revo- 
lution had  been  wrought  in  my  mind.  Sir,  I  once  be- 
lieved the  faithful  Creator  had  called  into  existence  by 
far  the  greatest  number  of  human  beings,  with  no  other 
intention,  than  to  consign  them  to  endless  misery,  rescu- 
ing only  a  few  respected  persons^  from  a  state  of  sin  and 
suffering.  You  will,  my  dear  sir,  probably  regret  that 
you  have  invited  me  hither,  when  J  inform  you,  that  the 
Christ  in  whom  I  trust,  and  the  gospel,  which  I  preach, 
is  not  the  Christ  of  whom  you  expected  to  hear,  nor  the 
gospel  you  supposed  I  should  preach.  The  Christ,  in 
whom  I  formerly  confided,  was  ?i  partial  Saviour;  but  the 
Christ,  in  whom  I  now  trust,  is  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
The  gospel,  you  have  been  accustomed  to  hear,  and 
which  you  expected  I  should  preach,  is  Si  partial  gospel, 
conveying  the  glad  tidings  of  eternal  life  in  Christ  Jesus 
only  to  an  elected  few.  The  gospel,  I  preach,  is  glad  ti- 
dings to  every  individual  of  the  human  race;  assuring 
them  that,  in  Christ,  the  promised  seed,  all  the  nations, 
all  the  families  of  the  earth  shall  be  blessed.  I  fear,  sir, 
that,  not  being  accustomed  to  the  ministry  of  the  recon- 
ciliation, committed  to  the  apostles,  to  wit,  that  God  was 
in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself,  not  imput- 
ing unto  them  their  trespasses;  that,  when  all  mankind 
like  sheep  had  gone  astray,  the  Lord,  the  offended  God, 
laid  upon  Jesus  the  iniquities  of  us  all,  that  he  might  put 
16* 


18a  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

them  away  by  the  sacrifice  of  hhiiself,  that  they  might 
thus,  as  a  mill-stone,  be  cast  into  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
and  be  found  no  more  at  all;  that  Jesus  thus  performing 
the  will  of  God,  the  world  may  ultimately  behold  him  in 
his  true  character,  as  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world;  thus  becoming  the  Saviour  of  all 
men, — not  in,  hut  from  their  sins.  I  fear,  my  good  sir, 
that  when  you  hear  me  thus  preaching  the  gospel,  which 
God  himself  preached  to  Abraham,  and  which  he  testified 
by  the  mouth  of  all  his  holy  prophets  ever  since  the  world 
began,  your  disappointment  will  be  grievous.  I  know, 
sir,  you  have  not  been  accustomed  to  hear  of  Universal 
Love;  of  boundless  compassion;  and  these  sounds  may 
make  you  as  angry,  as  they  have  made  many  of  our 
brethren  in  every  age.  Here  I  made  a  full  pause,  con- 
tinuing for  a  few  moments  in  painful  suspense.  I  was, 
however  soon  relieved.  *  No,  sir,  you  have  nothing  to 
fear  from  me;  for  although  the  things,  of  which  you 
speak,  have  never  entered  into  my  head  or  heart,  yet, 
give  me  leave  to  assure  you,  it  will  never  give  me  pain  to 
know,  that  God's  ways  are  not  as  my  ways,  nor  his 
thoughts  as  my  thoughts.  My  mind  is  so  far  from  revolt- 
ing at  the  tidings  you  bear,  that  nothing  would  give  mo 
more  unutterable  joy,  than  to  be  assured  of  their  truth.' 
Thus  was  my  mind  exonerated  from  a  weight  of  dread 
apprehension.  I  asked  him,  what  assurance  he  could 
either  wish  for,  or  expect  ?  *  Nothing  more  than  a  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord."  '  I  continued,  through  the  residue  of 
the  night,  preaching  the  gospel,  according  to  the  scrip- 
tures;.and  it  pleased  Almighty  God  so  to  furnish  my  mind 
with  testimonies,  drawn  from  the  sacred  volume,  that  I 
went  on,  from  Genesis  to  Revelations,  until  the  morning 
dawned  upon  us.  But  a  brighter  morning  dawned  upon 
the  long-benighted  mind  of  my  wandering  hearer;  he  ex- 
hibited, what  he  said  he  experienced,  rapture  before  un- 
known. He  was  indeed,  as  pne,  brought  out  of  darkness 
into  marvellous  light,  and  from  the  power  of  satan,  unto 
God.  I  never  before  saw  so  great  a  change,  wrought  in 
so  short  a  time.  He  gave  me  a  sketch  of  his  life,  which 
had  been  employed  in  seeking  to  accumulate  riches,  and 
righteousness.  The  former  he  had  gained,  but  the  latter 
he  had  not;  and  he  was  constrained  to  confess,  that  if 
the  wealth,  he  had  taken  such  unwearied  pains  to  obtain, 
and  to  keep,  were  no  better  in  the  sight  of  man,  than  his 
righteousness  was  in  his  own  estimation,  and  in  the  esti- 
mation of  his  God,  he  had  been  all  his  life  laboring  in  vain, 
and  spending  his  strength  for  nought.     By  commerce, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  183 

and  the  practice  of  physic,  the  Doctor  had  acquired  a  for- 
tune of  forty  thousand  pounds  sterling;  yet  from  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  man,  we  should  have  concluded  his  re- 
sources extremely  limited.  His  offsprings  were  only  one 
son,  and  one  daughter;  his  wife  was  no  more;  his  son  a 
prodigal;  his  daughter  a  married  woman,  in  eligible  cir- 
cumstances, and  of  a  most  amiable  character.  The  Doc- 
tor was  far  advanced  in  life,  and  although  he  had  been 
uniformly  employed  in  ge^frng-  and  hiding  money,  yet  he 
was  so  religious  a  man,  as  to  part  with  four  hundred  pounds 
sterling  toward  building  a  meeting-house;  and  he  was 
greatly  mortified,  at  not  being  able  to  obtain  permission 
for  me  to  preach  therein,  though  he  went  so  far,  as  to  as- 
sure those,  who  had  the  care  of  the  house,  that  he  would 
put  it  in  complete  repair,  if  he  might  be  indulged  with  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  who  he  pleased  in  the  pulpit,  when  it 
was  not  otherwise  occupied.  But  the  Presbytery  had 
given  orders,  that  no  person  should  be  admitted  into  any 
of  their  meetings,  without  a  letter  of  license,  first  had  and 
obtained  from  that  body.  '  So,'  said  the  Doctor,  *  let  God 
send,  by  whom  He  will  send,  the  sent  of  God  can  obtain 
no  admission;  but  thosO;  whom  the  Presbytery  think  prop- 
er to  send,  must  be  admitted  every  where !  Is  not  this 
rank  priestcraft?^  But  although  the  doors  of  every  house 
of  worship,  in  that  neighborhood,  were  shut  against  us, 
many  private  houses  were  devoted  to  us,  and  the  Doctor 
was  indefatigable  in  striving  to  spread  abroad  the  saviour 
of  the  Redeemer's  name.  His  soul  was  so  highly  wrought, 
by  the  discoveries  he  had  made,  that  he  most  ardently 
desired  to  make  all  men  acquainted  with  the  grace,  in 
which  they  stood. 

The  Doctor  was  a  man  of  uncommon  abilities;  his  mind 
was  highly  cultivated;  I  never  knew  a  finer  speaker. 
He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  religion  of  the  world, 
and,  possessing  a  happy  facility  of  manifesting  his  knowl- 
edge, when  it  pleased  God  to  show  him  his  salvation, — 
when  he  had  power  given  him  to  believe  with  his  heart 
the  word  of  God,  which  giveth  life  unto  all  men, — from 
the  abundance  of  his  believing  heart,  his  mouth  became 
full  of  the  praises  of  his  God;  and  wherever  he  went,  so 
often  as  opportunity  offered,  he  delighted  to  magnify  the 
name  of  the  Redeemer:  spreading  far  and  wide,  to  the 
utmost  of  his  abilities,  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  the  glad 
tidings  of  the  gospel  Every  body,  who  knew  the  man, 
was  astonished;  for,  strange  to  tell,  he  became  liberal; 
liberal  of  that,  with  which  he  had  heretofore  found  it  so 
difficult  to  part,  he  could  part  with  his  money;  and, 


184  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

among  numerous  instances  of  his  generosity,  I  myself  was 
an  example.     He  saw  my  vestments  were  rather  worn, 
they  could  not  last  always,  and  he  ordered  me  a  complete 
suit  of  superfine  broadcloth,     I  looked  at  the  Doctor,  at 
his  garments,  much  worse  than  mine.   I  am  really  astonish- 
ed, said  I.     '  Not  more  than  I  am  myself,  sir.     I  have  for 
a  whole  year  been  perfectly  aware;  that  I  wanted  raiment, 
yet  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  purchase  even  those 
articles  of  which  I  stood  in  most  need;  but,  sir  I  do  indeed 
behold  my  former  self  with  detestation.     I  continued  with 
the  Doctor  for  several  weeks;  he  accompanied  me  from 
place  to  place,  enjoying  abundantly  more  than  the  world 
could  give  or  take  away;  and  his  numerous  connexions 
were  partak(;rs  of  his  felicity.     For  myself  I  had  rich  op- 
portunities of  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom,  and 
my  pleasures  were  proportioned  to  the  satisfaction,  which 
L  was  instrumental   in  communicating.     But  it  became 
necessary  I  should  return  to  Philadelphia,  and  the.  Doctor 
was  exceedingly  affected;  yet  previous  to  my  final  depart- 
ure, I  had  engaged  to  preach  at  an  Episcopalian  church 
at  some  distance,  where  it   was  believed    a  large   con- 
course of  people  would  be  assembled.     But  on  Saturday 
evening,  the  wind  being  north-west,  brought  on  so  se- 
vere  a  frost,  that  the   ensuing  day,    Sunday,    February 
14th, 1773,  was  by  far  the  coldest  day  I  had  ever  experi- 
enced.    I  was,  however  determined  to  keep  my  appoint- 
ment, and  I  rode  six  miles  on  horseback,  accompanied  by 
a  gentleman,  who  had  conceived  for  me  the  strongest  af- 
fection, and  we  derived  so  much  pleasure,  from  the  di- 
vine subjects,  which  engaged  our  attention,  that  we  hard- 
ly adverted  either  to  the  severity  of  the  day,  or  the  dis- 
tance; and  my  fellow  traveller,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart, 
declared,  did  it  depend  upon  him,  we  would  ride  on  till 
the  close  of  time,   and  then  leap  into  eternity  together. 
The  cold,  however,  was  sufficiently  piercing  to  compel 
us  to  assemble  in  the  school-house,  instead  of  the  church, 
where  a  large  chimney,  and  a  blazing  hearth,  hardly  kept 
us  from  freezing;  yet  was  my  own  heart,  and  the  hearts 
of  many  of  my  hearers,  warmed  by  that  fire  of  divine  love, 
enkindled  by  the  word  and  spirit  of  our  God;  which  spirit 
graciously  vouchsafed  to  take  of  the  things  of  Jesus,  and 
show  them  unto  us,  giving  us  not  only  peace,  but  joy,  un- 
speakable joy,  in    believing.     I  proposed   departing  for 
Philadelphia,  on  the  following  Monday;  but  the  Doctor, 
and  his  friends,  prevailed  upon  me  to  tarry  a  day  or  two 
longer,  in  which  time  he  labored  hard  to  persuade  me  to 
continue  with  him.     '  Only,'  said  he,  '  consent  to  abide 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  185 

here,  and  I  will  very  cheerfully  build  for  you  as  handsome 
a  church,  as  any  in  the  country,  and  it  shall  be  your  own. 
I  will  devote  ten,  of  the  forty  thousand  pounds,  which  I 
possess,  to  this  purpose.  I  thanked  hinj,  most  cordially, 
for  his  flattering  offerj  but  added,  that  the  tender  of  his 
whole  estate  would  be  no  temptation  to  me  to  accept  a 
permanent  residence.  My  mind  was,  at  that  time,  sol- 
emnly impressed  by  a  conviction,  that  1  v/as  sent  out  to 
preach  the  gospel;  and  that,  as  the  servant  of  God,  I 
must  neither  loiter  by  the  way,  nor  seek  to  evade  the  spir- 
it of  my  commission.  An  imposing  sense  of  duty  com- 
pelled me  to  say,  that,  so  long  as  1  was  able,  I  would  sub- 
mit to  the  will  of  ray  Master.  Upon  the  night  previous 
to  my  departure,  we  had  little  sleep.  We  expatiated  with 
pleasing  wonder  upon  the  mysterious  ways  of  Heaven, 
and  we  poured  out  our  souls  in  prayer  to  that  God,  who, 
having  brought  us  together,  had  caused  us  to  drink  into 
one  spirit.  The  morning  came,  when,  after  commending 
ourselves  to  God,  and  to  the  word  of  his  grace,  I  was  on 
the  point  of  departing,  in  the  same  manner  I  had  left 
Philadelphia,  yet,  without  even  the  vestige  of  apprehen- 
sion. But  the  Doctor,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  essayed  to 
articulate;  but  was  necessitated  to  pause  for  self-posses- 
sion, when  he  said:  '  God  forever  bless  you,  and  be  with 
you;  and  wherever  you  go,  make  your  way  plain  before 
you  ;  and,  if  we  never  meet  again  in  this  world,  (for  I  am 
an  old  man,  you  know)  I  rejoice  in  the  assurance,  that 
we  shall  meet  in  the  presence  of  God,  our  Saviour,  and 
spend  an  eternity  together.'  He  then  put  into  my  hand 
gold  sufficient,  abundantly  sufficient  to  bear  my  expenses 
even  to  the  dwelling  of  my  patron.  *  You  may  want  this 
upon  the  road,'  said  he,  '  take  this  as  a  memento  of  friend- 
ship.' I  am  dear  sir,  amazed  at  your  liberality.  '  I  also 
am  amazed — it  is  the  Lords  doings,  and  truly,  it  is  mar- 
vellous in  my  eyes.  Thus  closed  my  visit  to  my  worthy 
friend,  after  I  had  promised,  that,  if  it  should  so  please 
God,  I  would  cheerfully  visit  him  again. 

On  my  return,  being  earnestly  solicited,  I  preached  in 
the  hall  of  the  Acaderuy  at  Newark;  and  I  once  more 
reposed  under  the  roof  of  that  hospitable  man,  who  was 
made  the  instrument  of  administering  to  my  necessities, 
on  my  way.  At  Wilmington  too,  1  delivered  my  message; 
and  elevated  by  an  excursion,  which  had  been  so  greatly 
blessed,  I  returned  to  Philadelphia  in  perfect  health,  and 
high  spirits.  During  the  residue  of  the  spring,  the  whole 
of  the  succeeding  summer,  and  a  part  of  the  autumn,  until 
October,  1773,  my  time  was  divided  between  Pennsylva- 


186  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Ilia,  the  Jersies,  and  New-York.     My  friends  were  to  be 
found  among  every  class  of  people,  from  the  highest  to 
the  most  humble,  and  almost  every  day  increased  the  num- 
ber, both  of  my  friends  and  enemies.     The  clergy  contin- 
ued a  phalanx  of  opposition..    One  good  man  stumbled 
upon  a  most  ingenious  device.     A  Mr.   Still, 'a  Baptist 
priest,  wrote  a  most  elaborate  letter,  in  which  he  charged 
me  with  many  crimes,  assuming  as  facts,  those  reported 
crimes,  which  ray  soul  abhorred.     This  letter  he  read  in 
every  company  in  which  he  mixed;  sent  copies  of  it  to 
New-England,  and  various  other  parts  of  the  country; 
giving  those,  to  whom  he  made  his  communications,  to 
understand,  that  he  had  forwarded  this  letter  to  me,  al- 
though I  never  saw  it,  and  was  indebted  for  an  account  of 
its  contents,  to  some  worthy  individuals,  who  were  among 
the  number  of  those,  to  whom  it  was  read.    Thus  did  this 
man  industriously  essay   to  prejudice  the  minds  of  the 
people,  trusting  that  their  hatred  of  me,  and  my  testimony, 
would  if  possible,  be  commensurate  with  his  own;  and 
thus,  at  his  righteous  tribunal,  I  was  tried  and  condemned, 
and,  as  far  as  he  could  prevail,  executed,  without  being 
suffered  to  plead  in  my  own  defence,  or  even  furnished 
with  a  copy  of  the  allegations  against  me.     Had  I  not 
reason  to  supplicate:  Grant  me,  O  my  God!  patient  resig- 
nation, and  the  divine  light  of  thy  countenance.     Yet  the 
character,  priest,  and  adversary,  did  not  always  prove 
synonymous.     A  clergyman,  upon  a  memorable  evening, 
entered  a  house  of  public  worship,  in  which  I  was  pro- 
mulgating the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.     He  presented  him- 
self with  a  determination  to  oppose  me;  but  quitting  the 
church,  and  entering  my  lodgings,  he  folded  me  in  his 
arms,  exclaiming  (while  his  eye  glistened  with  pleasure,) 
'  If  this  be  heresy,  may  I  so  worship  the  God  of  my  fathers, 
during  the  residue  of  my  days.'     Nor  was  this  a  solitary 
instance;  Mr.  Duchee,  minister  of  the  established  church 
of  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Tretard,  of  New-Rochelle,  Mr.  Gano, 
of  New-York,  Mr.  Tyler,  Episcopalian  minister  of  Nor- 
wich, were  among  the  number  of  those,  who,  if  they  Vvere 
not  fully  with  me  in  sentiment,  have  uniformly  discharged 
toward  me  the  duty  of  Christian  friends.     My  opportuni- 
ties of  observing  uncommon  characters  ^vere  multiplied. 
I  regret,  that  the  limits,  I  have  prescribed  to  myself,  will 
not  permit  me  to  dwell  upon  the  life  and  virtues  of  Thomas 
Say,  of  Philadelphia;  a  man,  who,  it  may  be  said,  re-vis- 
ited this  world,  after  being  privileged  with  more  than  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  another.     Anthony  Benezet  migljt  also 
claim  many  pages.     Christopher  Marshall;  the  celebrated 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  187 

Mrs.  Wright,  and  her  uncommon  family;  many  shades 
of  departed  friends  flit  before  me,  but  I  must  hasten  from 
the  now  beatified  group,  and  pursue  the  sometimes  rug- 
ged path,  over  which  the  journey  of  life  hath  conducted 
me. 

Upon  the  10th  of  October,  1773,  I  embarked  on  board 
the  Humbird,  captain  Lawton,  for  Newport,  which  place 
we  reached  at  early  breakfast,  and  where  I  was  received 
in  a  manner  comporting  with  my  most  sanguine  wishes. 
Belcher,  Warner,  Otis,  Newton,  Wright,  Wanton,  Wa- 
terhouse,  Ellery,  &c.  &c.,  these  all  received  me  with  open 
arras;  but  having  reason  to  believe,  much  confusion 
would  result  from  an  attempt  to  open  the  doors  of  the 

meeting-house,  in  which  Dr.  S officiated,  I  sent  the 

Doctor  an  assurance,  that  I  would  no  more  enter  his  pul- 
pit; The  Governor  granted  the  state-house  to  the  solici- 
tations of  my  friendsy  and  became  himself  one  of  my  audi- 
ence. I  preached  also  in  the  meeting-house  of  Mr.  Kelly, 
and  at  the  prison.  The  congregations  were  crowded, 
and  attentive.  Newport  contains  a  synagogue,  and  the 
many  Jews,  collected  there,  pressed  to  hear.  Mr.  Lo- 
pez, an  opulent  gentleman  among  the  Jews,  celebrated  as 
well  for  humanity,  as  for  mercantile  knowledge,  met  me 
at  the  door  of  the  state- house,  and,  pressing  my  hand, 
said  :  '  God  Almighty  be  with  you,  sir,  and  bless  and  pre- 
serve you  wherever  you  go,  giving  you  good  success  al- 
ways.' He  would  have  added;  but  his  overflowing  heart 
evidently  denied  him  utterance.  The  Jews  were  gene- 
rally pleased.  They  declared,  they  had  never  before 
heard  so  much  in  favor  of  Christianity.  Poor  hearts! 
they  would  see  the  things,  whi«h  belong  to  their  peace, 
if  the  appointed  time  of  the  Father  were  come;  in  this 
their  day  are  they  hidden  from  their  eyes :  but  the  day  of 
the  Lord  cometh,  when  whatever  is  hidden  shall  be  re- 
vealed. 

I  was  solicited  to  take  up  my  abode  at  Newport,  and 
assured,  if  I  would  so  do,  a  place  of  public  worship 
should  be  erected  for  my  accommodation.  These  good 
people  learned,  that  I  had  been  necessitated  to  part  'with 
my  horsCi^for  the  purpose  of  defraying  the  expenses,  at- 
tendant upon  re-printing  specimens  of  apostolic  preach- 
ing, selected  from  the  writings  of  Mr.  Relly;  and  they 
insisted  upon  purchasing  me  another.  Nor  was  this 
all;  they  helped  me  on  my  way,  contributing  abundantly, 
by  private  gratuities,  to  the  relief  of  my  necessities.  Mr. 
Ward,  secretary  to  the  then  province  of  Rhode-Island, 
with  many  others,  were,  upon  this  my  second  visit,  added 


198  LIFE    OF    EXV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

to  the  number  of  my  friends.    A  member  of  Dr.  S '^s- 

church  informed  me,  it  was  affirmed,  I  had  absolutely 
said,  all  men  should  he  saved.  I  assured  him,  I  had 
never  said,  all  men  should  be  saved;  I  had  said,  Jesus 
was  and  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men;  and  that,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  he  would  gather  together  all  things  into  one, 
— bringing  in  his  ancient  people,  the  Jews,  and  with  them 
the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles, — causing  all  flesh  to  come 
and  worship  before  him, — and  making  of  Jew  and 
Gentile  One  new  man,  so  making  peace:  and  that  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  should  become  the  kingdoms  of 
God  and  of  His  Christ.  I  publicly  invited  any  individual 
in  Newport,  who  had  aught  to  say  against  the  testimony 
I  delivered,  to  meet  me  in  an  open  manner,  the  bible  in 
his  hand;  and  if  the  arguments  he  should  produce  were 
more  consistent  with  the  sacred  writings,  I  would  upon 
the  spot,  in  the  most  unreserved  manner,  acknowledge 
and  renounce  my  errors. 

Quitting  Newport,  I  took  passage  for  East-Greenwich. 
A  fellow  passenger  told  me,  he  had  been  informed  I  had 
said:  Our  sins  were  laid  upon  the  Devil;  and  that  there 
Avas  nothing  for  us  to  do;  and  he  wished  to  know,  if  I  be- 
lieved either  the  one  or  the  other?  Certainly  not,  I  repli- 
ed; it  was  not  the  Devil,  but  the  Redeemer,  on  whom  the 
Lord  laid  the  iniquities  of  us  all.  I  assured  him,  we  had 
many  things  in  our  various  characters  to  perform,  to 
which  it  was  our  bounden  duty  to  attend;  and  that  those, 
who  continued  in  offences,  would  be  experimentally  able 
to  say,  '  Truly,,  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard; '  for, 
assuredly,  they  would  be  chastised  with  many  stripes. 
My  appearance  at  East-Greenwich  was  welcomed  by  Mr. 
Varnum,  and  others.  Several  gentlemen,  whom  I  had 
not  before  knov^n,  called  upon  me  at  Mr.  Varnum's; 
among  these  was  Dr.  Hawkins,  who  questioned  me,  and 
appeared  satisfied  with  my  answers;  he  introduced  me  to 
his  friends,  Mr.  Green,  &lc.  I  preached,  in  the  court- 
house, to  a  crowded  audience.  The  superior  court  was 
then  in  session;  the  judges  and  the  lawyers  were  among 
my  hearers.  I  was  laboring  under  great  indisposition, 
but  God  was  with  me.  Esquire  Casey  took  ipe  to  his 
house,  where  I  was  met  by  judge  Potter  for  the  purpose 
of  conversation.  He  said  he  had  never  been  pleased  with 
pulpit  exhibitions,  because  they  were  so  replete  with 
contradictions,  and  he  was  determined  to  sift  me  thorough- 
ly. We  passed  the  night  together;  he  performed  what 
he  had  proposed,  v»'ith  candor,  and  appeared  satisfied  with 
the  result.     At  parting,  he  earnestly  wished  me  success^ 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRATf-  189 

and  prayed  that  I  might  be  preserved  froia  the  pow^er  of 
the  priest,  and  the  flatterer.  This  gentleman  continued 
to  evince  '^veat  affection  for  mej  hfe  seemed  to  understand 
and  feel  the  power  of  the  gospel  j  I  had  not  seen  his  supe- 
rior. At  this  period,  I  was  desirous  of  extending  my  tour 
as  far  as  Boston :  but,  notwithstanding  the  repeated  mani- 
festations of  divine  protection,  with  which  I  had  been 
favored,  a  reluctance  to  venturing  on  untried  scenes  was 
gradually  pervading  my  spirit,  and  I  was  again  ready  to 
ask,  What  am  I  to  do  in  Boston?  Yet  I  added:  O!  my 
unbelieving  heart,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body 
of  sin  and  death  ?  Blessed  be  God  who  is  faithful.  Pass- 
ing an  hour  at  Mi-s.  Green's,  I  was  introduced  to  a  lady 
from  Boston,  a  Mrs.  Hubbard-,  she  questioned  me  upon 
the  doctrine  of  reprobation,  particularly  that  passage, 
which  expressly  asserts,  '  Jacob  have  I  loved,  and  Esau 
have  I  hated.'  My  answers  were  so  much  to  her  satis- 
faction, that  she  gave  me  a  pressing  invitation  to  her 
house  in  Boston;  and  as  I  coBtemplated  a  journey  thither, 
she  prayed  me  to  take  a  letter  to  Mr.  Hubbard,  and  to 
make  his  dwelling  my  abode,  during  my  continuance  in 
the  metropolis  of  Massachusetts.  From  East-Greenwich 
I  proceeded  to  Pawtuxet,  delivering  my  message  in  their 
house  of  worship;  and  from  thence  1  repaired  to  Provi- 
dence, where  I  was  received  by  those,  who  had  before 
bade  me  welcome,  with  continued  kindness.  Immediate- 
ly on  my  arrival,  a  summons  to  pass  the  evening  with  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Snow  was  presented  me;  I  delayed  not  to  at- 
tend him,  and  I  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Binney,  a  young 
gentleman  of  gr6at  promise.  Mr.  Snow's  parlor  was 
nearly  filled  by  the  members  of  his  church  and  congrega- 
tian.  A  long  and  solemn  pause  succeeded  the  usual  cere- 
monies of  introduction;  Mr.  Snow  at  length  broke  silence 
by  observing:  'We  are,  sir,  perfectly  aware,  that  by  far 
the  greater  part  of  the  town  are  anxious  to  hear  you;  and, 
as  our  house  is  the  most  convenient,  we  presume  applica- 
tion will  be  made  for  its  use.  But,  since  you  were  last 
here,  a  few  of  our  members  have  heard  strange  reports 
respecting  you:  (viz.)  That  you  believe  all  mankind 
will  be  saved;  and  that  the  new  birth  is  not  in  us,  but  in 
Christ.  I  have,  therefore,  thought  proper  to  call  together 
several  of  my  church,  that  they  may  have  an  opportunity 
of  speaking  to  you,  and  determining  whether  they  think 
proper  to  open  their  doors.  Do  you,  sir,  believe  that  all 
mankind  will  be  saved  ?'  /  believe,  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Sa- 
viour of  all  men;  that,  by  the  grace  of  God,  he  tasted  death 
for  every  man;  that  he  is  the  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the 


190  LIFE    OF    HEV.    JOH.V    MURRAY. 

whole  world;  and  that  God  was,  in  Christ,  reconciling  the 
world  unto  Himself,  not  imputing  unto  them  their  tres- 
passess.  'Well,  and  do  you  believe,  that  all  are  saved? ' 
Not  as  unbelievers;  the}',  who  believe  not,  are  damned. 
^  How  then  are  they  interested  in  Jesus?'  Precisely  as 
they  were  in  the  first  Adani.  '  But  all  are  not  interested 
in  Jesus,  as  they  were  in  the  first  Adam.'  How  then  doth 
it  appear^  that  as,,  by  the  offence  of  one  man^,  judgment 
came  upon  all  men  to  cojidemnation,.  so  by  the  righteous- 
ness of  one,  the  free  gift  came  upon  all  men  to  justification 
of  life?  '  '  And  do  you,  sir,  believe  that,  in  consequence 
of  this,  all  will  be  finally  happy? '  Do  you,  sir,  believe 
all  who  learn  of  the  Father  will  be  happy?'  '  O  yes.' 
And  do  you  believe  all  will  be  taught  of  God,  and  come 
to  Jesus,  and.be  saved?  '  No,  indeed,'  Do  ministers  in 
general  believe  this?  '  No,  we  know  they  do  not.'  Why 
then  do  they  pray  for  it?  Do  they  not  pray,  that  God 
would  hasten  the  happy  time,  when  he  shall  bring  in  his 
ancient  people,  the  Jews,  and  with  them  the  fulness  of 
the  Gentiles;  that  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  may  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  God  and  of  His  Christ;  that  they 
may  all  be  taught  of  God  from  the  least  unto  the  greatest? 
For  this,  and  much  more,  clergymen  repeatedly  pray  i 
and  can  we  suppose  they  are  dealing  hypocritically  with 
their  God?  are  they  such  monsters  of  impiety,  as  to  solic- 
it, for  what,  they  believe  the  Almighty  had  determined, 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  he  would  never  grant  ? 
A  profound  pause  succeeded;  after  which,  I  was  asked: 
'  Do  you,  sir,,  believe  the  New  Birth  is  in  us,  or  in 
Christ ! '  He,  who  is  born  of  God,  sinneth  not,  But  if 
we  say  we  have  no  sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth 
is  not  in  us.  He,  who  is  born  of  God,  is  a  new  creature;  all 
old  things  are  passed  away,  and  all  things  are  become  new; 
a  good  many  out  of  the  goodtreasury  of  his  heart,  bringeth 
not  forth  good  and  evil,  but  good,  only  good.  I  conceive, 
therefore,  that  to  be  born  again,  or,  as  it  maybe  rendered 
to  be  born  anew,  or  born  from  above,  alludes  to  the  birth 
of  the  human  family  in  the  person  of  Christ  Jesus,  we 
being  members  of  his  body..  Hence  the  sacred  record 
decidedly  pronounces:  Created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus^ 
*Well,  that  is  scripture,  to  be  sure.'  Are  we  Christ 
Jesus?  '  No,  certainly.'  Then,  can  being  created  anew, 
in  Christ  Jesus,  be  understood  as  being  created  anew,  in. 
ourselves?  A  part  of  the  company  discovered  great  bitter- 
ness; others  were  more  calm.  I  requested  them  to  ob- 
serve, that,  if  they  reported  me  as  a  heretic,  they  must 
remember  they  smote  me  through  Paul's  skirts,  for  I  had 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  191 

delivered  no  sentiments  of  my  own  fabrication:;  I  had 
merely  rehearsed  in  their  ears  the  unadulterated  language 
of  revelation :  I  therefore  begged  I  might  be  honestly  re- 
ported. One  gentleman  declared,  that,  whether  I  deemed 
it  honest,  or  not,  he  should  repprt  me  as  a  heretic.  I  then 
insisted,  he  should  declare,  what  heresy  was.  He  said,  I 
was  against  the  gospel.  I  requested,  he  would  say  what 
gospel  was.''  He  replied,  it  was  whatever  was  found  in 
the  new  testament.  I  appealed  to  the  company,  whether 
this  was  either  fair  or  true?  whether  there  were  not  many 
particulars  in  the  new  testament,  which  were  not  gospel.? 
and  whether  the  gospel  was  not  preached  to  Abraham  ? 
or  whether  the  gospel  was  not  God's  good  sayings,  or 
glad  tidings  to  all  people.''  Whether  I  had  said  any  thing 
contrary  to  this,  or  proposed  any  way  of  salvation,  beside 
Christ  Jesus .'*  or  whether  I  had  privily  strove  to  Iring  in 
such  a  damnable  doctrine,  as  to  deny  the  Lord  who 
bought  them?  They  were  all  dumb.  At  length  Mr. 
Snow  said;  *  Well,  my  friends,  you  know  the  reason  of 
my  calling  you  together,  and  you  can  now  determine  re- 
specting Mr.  Murray's  again  entering  our  pulpit.  I 
would  have  you  freely  deliver  your  sentiments.  One 
said,  the  people  wished  to  hear,  and  there  was  no  house 
so  convenient  as  theirs;  he  could  see  no  reason  why  I 
should  not  preach.  Another  objected.  His  conscience 
would  not  allow  him  to  consent.  A  third  remarked,  the 
people  would  go  to  hear  me,  preach  where  I  would;  sup- 
pose I  was  wrong,  I  could  not  contaminate  the  house 
for  his  part,  he  did  not  see  that  I  had  said  any  things 
which  had  been  proved  erroneous;  that  he  most  devoutly 
blessed  God  he  had  been  present,  for  he  had  received 
more  light,  than  he  had  ever  before  enjoyed;  and  many 
united  their  acknowledgments  with  his.  I  assured  them, 
it  was  my  solemn  determination  to  preach  nothing  but 
Christ  Jesus,  and  him  crucified  for  every  human  being. 
Finally,  they  determined  to  open  their  doors  for  my  re- 
ception; and  thus,  by  permission  of  minister  and  people, 
I  again  and  again  addressed  a  vast  multitude  from  the 
pulpit  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Snow,  of  Providence,  and  my 
hearers  appeared  serious  and  attentive. 

During  my  continuance  in  Providence,  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  Doctor  Huse  of  that  place,  a  very  uncom- 
mon man,  and,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  of  a  very  luminous 
intellect.  Bidding  me  Godspeed,  he  added:  ^  Sir,  I  re- 
joice, that  you  dare  be  honest;  how  long  you  will  con- 
tinue so,  I  know  not.  At  present  you  are  boldly  facing 
danger,  and  without  fear.     Continue,  I  beseech  you,  to 


19^  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

declare  unmixed  truth,  although  all  men  should  be  against 
you.'  On  the  26th  of  October,  1773,  I  took  a  seat  in  the 
stage  for  Boston.  Late  upon  the  evening  of  that  day,  we 
reached  town.  I  had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Hubbard,  and 
another  for  a  gentleman,  a  major  Paddock:  but  I  was  un- 
willing to  disturb  strangers  at  an  hour  so  improper  for  a 
first  introduction,  and  the  old  question  recurred:  'What 
are  you  to  do  now? '  The  passengers,  one  after  another 
were  dropped;  I  remained  alone  in  the  coach  and  the 
coachman  civilly  questioned:  'Where  will  you  be  set 
down,  sir.? '  Can  you  recommend  to  me,  a  decent  tavern? 
While  he  deliberated,  a  son  of  Mrs.  Hubbard  accosted 
him.  'Is  Mr.  Murray  in  the  coach?'  'Yes,  sir.'  He 
approached  the  door.  '  My  Mother,  sir,  has  written  to 
my  father  respecting  you,  and  we  have  been  looking  out 
for  you  with  great  impatience.'  All  was  immediately 
settled;  and  thus  was  I  met,  in  Boston,  by  the  good  pro- 
vidence of  God,  while  my  throbbing  heart  exclaimed;  To 
the  Lord  belongeth  mercy;  and  praise,  and  thanksgiving 
are  his  righteous  due. 

By  Mr.  Hubbard  I  was  received  with  great  kindness, 
he  was  an  innocent,  honest  man,  and  his  family  were 
truly  friendly.  Upon  the  ensuing  morning  I  delivered  my 
letter  to  Major  Paddock,  whose  reception  of  me  was  such 
as  a  stranger  ought  to  expect,  coolly  civil;  he,  however, 
introduced  me  to  Mr.  Williams,  a  respectable,  philan- 
thopic  gentleman  strongly  attached  to  the  writings  of  Ja- 
cob Bhemen.  To  Mr.  Williams  I  have  most  gratefully 
to  acknowledge  a  series  of  important  and  essential  obliga- 
tions. Measures  were  soon  in  train  for  the  purpose  of 
procuring  a  place,  in  which  I  might  be  allowed  to  deliver 
my  testimony;  but  every  effort  was  ineffectual,  until  the 
following  Saturday,  October  30th.  In  this  interval,  I  re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Thomas  Handasyde  Peck,  a  polite  invi- 
tation to  dine.  Mr.  Peck  was  a  very  respectable  man, 
and  his  lady  a  most  valuable  woman;*  they  were  unwea- 
ried in  contributing,  to  the  utmost  of  their  abilities,  to  the 
relief  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  sorrow.  Ranking 
among  the  admirers  of  Mr.  Whitefield,  they  possessed 

*  Many  of  the  descendants  of  this  exemplary  couple  are  among  the 
most  opulent  dwellers  in  this  town.  It  is  reported,  that  they  are 
marching  forward  in  the  luminous  path  of  their  excellent  ancestors  j 
that  they  uniformly  extend  to  the  children  of  adversity  a  munificent 
and  extricating  hand  ;  and,  although  their  voices  did  not  gladden  the 
sick  chamber  of  the  preacher,  yet  he  rejoiced  in  their  prosperity,  and 
in  that  large  portion  of  benevolence,  ascribed  to  them  by  the  echoing 
tongue  of  fame.  Ed. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  193 

eminently  the  characteristic  of  his  adherents, — they  were 
abundantly  less  bigoted  than  other  Religionists.  In  the 
agreeable  family  of  Mr.  Peck,  1  passed  a  most  delightful 
day;  I  related  to  them  the  manner  of  my  coming 'to  the 
house  of  my  patron,  and  1  sketched  for  them  the  dealings 
of  God  with  me,  since  he  had  called  me  forth.  They  lis- 
tened with  silent  astonishment;  and  when  I  had  finished, 
they  praised  God  in  my  behalf*  They  were  evidently 
pained,  that  I  could  not  obtain  a  place  in  which  to  preach; 
and  they  added,  if  no  other  could  be  procured,  they  would 
open  their  own  doors  for  this  purpose.  There  were  in 
Boston,  at  this  period,  a  few  individuals,  who  were  im- 
measurably attached  to  the  writings  of  Jacob  Bhemen. 
Those  persons  looked  down  with  pity  on  all  those  they 
had  left  behind,  who  were  such  infidels,  as  not  to  ascribe 
honor  and  glory  to  the  inspired  pages  of  this  writer.  I 
could  not  forbear  experiencing  great  satisfaction  from  the 
consideration,  that  Jesus  Christ  was  made  unto  me  wis- 
dom. The  adherents  of  Bhemen  enjoyed  their  philosoph- 
ical divinity  very  highly,  delighting  to  wrap  themselves 
about  in  a  mysterious  garment  of  unintelligible  jargon. 
But  thus  it  must  ever  be.  Error  will  prevail,  until  the 
appointed  time  of  the  Father  shall  usher  the  benighted 
mind  into  the  clear  shining  of  the  full  meridian  of  Divine 
Revelation. 

At  the  house  of  Major  Paddock  I  met  a  member  of  Mr. 
Stillman's  church,  who  seemed  to  conceive  there  would 
be  little  difficulty  in  overthrowing  my  plan;  to  whom  I  ob- 
served, that  if  any  individual  would  unite  with  me  in 
searching  the  scriptures,  I  would,  supposing  there  were 
not  found  in  the  book  of  God  more  positive  assertions  of 
final,  and  universal  Redemption,  than  of  final  Reproba- 
tion, pledge  myself  immediately  to  surrender  my  present 
soul-satisfying  views.  '  No  one,'  he  replied,  *  could  take 
pleasure  in  the  destruction  of  mankind,'  Why,  do  not 
you,  sir.?  '  No,  sir.'  Why,  sir.?  '  I  wonder  you  should 
ask  such  a  question.'  Why,  sir,  why  should  you  not  take 
pleasure  in  that,  in  which  God  takes  pleasure.'^  'God 
does  not  take  pleasure  in  destruction,  sir.?'  What,  sir,  and 
make  individuals  on  purpose  to  destroy  them  I  and  Almigh- 
ty too — ruling  in  heaven  above,  and  in  earth  beneath,  as 
seemeth  in  his  sight  good?  Do  you  dare  say,  if  you  had 
power,  no  fellow  creature  should  be  lost;  and  dare  you 
suppose,  that  He,  who  hath  all  power,  both  in  heaven  and 
in  earth,  hath  not  so  much  love  as  you,  a  finite  being.? 
Will  He  say  to  you.  Love  your  enemies,  do  good  to  those, 
who  hate  you,  and  pray  for  those,  who  despitefully  use 
17* 


# 


104  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

you, — and  will  He  not  do  likewise  ?  shall  the  'disciple  be 
above  his  Master,  and  the  servant  above  his  Lord?  He 
answered  with  a  sigh:  '  I  cannot  argue  with  you,  sir,  that 
last  observation  has  weight.'  Ah,  sir !  I  continued,  would 
that  every  individual  were  more  intimately  acquainted 
with  that  most  elevating  subject,  the  love  of  God  to  man, 
the  never-beginning,  never-ending  love  of  God  to  man. 
This,  sir,  is  a  species  of  knowledge,  which  doth  not  puff 
up;  but  it  lifts  up,  as  on  eagles'  wings,  ever  mounting, 
never  tiring,  but  still  discovering  new  wonders,  through 
the  wasteless  ages  of  eternity.  But  man,  poor,  fallen  man, 
who  in  his  present  state  is  enmity  against  God,  is  ever 
measuring  the  love  and  compassion  of  Deity,  by  his  own 
scanty  rule.  Nay,  by  a  rule,  which  he  would  blush  to 
acknowledge.  I  have  frequently  said,  that  there  is  not  a 
person  of  character  upon  this  continent,  who  would  bear 
to  be  delineated,  whatever  character  he  sustains,  as  he 
thinks  and  speaks  of  the  Most  High.  What  father  would 
choose  to  be  supposed  deficient  in  providing,  to  the  extent 
of  his  power,  every  requisite  aid  for  the  beings  he  has 
been  instrumental  in  introducing  into  existence?  It  is 
confessed  by  all,  that  God  is  Almighty;  that  he  is  a  sove- 
reign; that  he  can  do,  and  will  do,  as  he  pleases;  and  that 
no  power  can  resist  his  will.  It  is  also  said.  That  he  will- 
eth  not  the  death,  the  eternal  death,  of  the  sinner;  that  he 
willeth,that  man  should  be  saved;  that  he  hath  appointed, 
and  therefore  sends  out  his  servants  to  warn  mankind,  to 
call  them  to  eternal  blessedness,  to  persuade  them  to  come, 
that  all  things  are  now  ready.  All  this  looks  like  love  in 
God.  But  we  are  informed,  the  people,  called,  have  no 
knowledge  of  God;  that  they  are  enmity  against  God,  and 
that,  not  from  a  persuasion  that  God  was,  in  Christ,  rec- 
onciling them  to  himself,  but  because  they  do  not  know 
this,  and  therefore  do  not  believe  it;  that  no  man  can 
come  unto  the  Father,  but  by  Jesus;  that  no  man  can 
come  unto  Jesus,  except  the  Father  draw  him;  and  that 
all,  who  learn  of  the  Father,  come  unto  Jesus;  and  all, 
who  come  unto  him,  he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  Are 
multitudes  cast  out  forever?  Then  it  is  because  they 
■were  not  taught  of  God;  for  if  they  had  learned  of  the 
Father,  they  would  have  come  unto  Jesus,  and  he  would 
in  no  wise  have  cast  them  out.  But  did  God  attempt  to 
teach  them,  and,  finding  it  imyond  his  power,  did  he  finally 
give  them  up?  But  is  not  God,  almighty?  Yes,  but  he 
did  not  choose  to  stretch  forth  his  Omnipotent  arm.  Why  ? 
Because  if  he  had,  they  must  be  saved,  and  he  would  leave 
them  to  the  freedom  of  their  own  will.   Did  He  not  know 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  195 

tke  consequence  would  be  their  eternal  damnation.'*  O 
yes;  but  this  is  perfectly  right;  for,  when  he  called,  they 
would  not  near.  Did  he  intend  they  should  hear!  We 
have  nothing  to  do  with  that.  Merciful  God !  lift  up  the 
light  of  thy  irradiating  countenance  upon  the  benighted 
family  of  man. 

Upon  the  evening  of  October  30th,  1773, 1  preached  for 
the  first  time  in  Boston,  in  the  hall  of  the  factory.  My 
hearers  were  attentive,  and  after  I  had  closed,  several  in- 
dividuals addressed  me,  and  with  apparent  kindness  invi- 
ted me  to  visit  them  at  their  houses.  On  the  succeeding 
evening,  (Sunday,)  I  again  preached  in  the  hall;  the  con- 
gregation was  too  large  for  the  place.  My  subject  was 
Zechariah  ix.  9.  The  people  were  more  aft'ectionate  than 
the  preceding  evening;  many  solicited  me  to  tarry,  and 
assured  me,  that  a  better  place  should  be  provided  for  my 
accommodation.  On  Monday  ftvening,  November  1st,  I 
preached  to  a  select  number  at  Mr.  Peck's,  who  seemed 
to  have  the  power  of  God  among  them.  In  consequence 
of  a  pressing  solicitation  from  this  gentleman,  I  took  up 
my  lodging  in  his  hospitable  mansion;  thus  goodness  and 
mercy  continually  followed  me.  From  my  beloved  friend 
Binney,  I  received  repeated  and  affectionate  letters,  and  I 
trusted  this  young  gentleman  would  become  an  able  advo- 
cate for  the  Redeemer. 

A  Mr.  Little,  of  Newburyport,  united  his  earnest  solici- 
tations with  a  number  of  gentlemen',  who  importunately 
urged  me  to  visit  that  place.  I  dared  not  refuse;  and, 
parting  with  my  affectionate  friends  in  Boston,  I  accompa- 
nied Mr  Little  and  others  in  the  stage  for  Newburyport. 
On  our  arrival,  inquiries  were  made  at  the  coach-side,  if 
1  was  there;  and  on  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  a 
crowd  collected.  Mr.  Parsons,  the  Presbyterian  minister, 
a  venera|3le  looking  gentleman,  immediately  visited  me, 
and  asked  me  many  questions.  Where  I  came  from.'' 
what  clergymen  I  was  acquainted  with?  and  what  creden- 
tials I  could  produce  ?  During  his  inquiries  he  discovered, 
as  it  appeared  to  me,  some  uneasiness  at  the  idea  of  my 
preaching  in  his  pulpit:  I  therefore  hastened  to  inform 
him,  that  I  was  no  priest,  nor  approved  of  by  gentlemen 
of  that  order;  that  I  professed  myself  somewhat  acquaint- 
ed with  the  salvation  wrought  out  by  Jesus  Christ,  and 
that  wherever  his  providence  called  me,  I  was  willing  to 
speak  well  of  the  name  of  the  Redeemer;  but,  I  added, 
that  I  had  great  reluctance  in  speaking  in  any  place  in 
opposition  to  the  wishes  of  the  officiating  minister.  Mr. 
Parsons  replied;  The  house  was  not  his,  it  was  the  prop- 


2i9B  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

erty  of  the  people,  and  when  it  Avas  not  occupied,  they 
had  an  indubitable  right  to  invite  who  they  pleased. 
Speaking  of  my  call  to  preach,  whether  ordinary,  or  ex- 
traordinary, I  observed  I  had  both  when  he  petulently 
asked:  '  Pray,  can  you  speak  with  tongues? '  It  is  possi- 
ble I  may,  sir,  with  tongues  that  you  may  not  understand. 
However,  your  question  is  as  much  against  you  as  against 
me.  Jesus  says,  among  the  many  signs,  that  shall  follow 
those  who  believe,  they  shall  heal  the  sick  by  laying 
hands  upon  them,  and  if  they  take  up  any  deadly  thing, 
it  shall  not  hurt  them.  From  these  evidences,  sir,  per- 
haps it  would  be  as  hard  for  you  to  prove  yourself  even  a 
believer,  as  for  me  to  prove  myself  a  preacher,  sent  of  God. 
While  we  were  yet  conversing,  the  bell  was  rung  and  a 
large  congregation  assembled,  among  which  Mr.  Parsons 
himself  attended;  and  I  selected  for  my  subject,  Isaiah  Iv. 
10,  11.  Agreeably  to.  his  earnest  request,  Mr.  Little  was 
my  host;  and  upon  the  ensuing  morning,  "(Saturday,)  in 
eonsequence  of  a  very  polite  invitation,  I  breakfasted  with 
Mr.  Parsons,  and  I  was  received  by  him,  and  his,  very  cor- 
dially ;  his  countenance  brightened  upon  me,  and  he  re- 
quested me  to  preach  again  in  his  church  on  that  day: 
Nor  was  this  all ;  he  walked  with  me  to  the  pulpit,  and  sat 
with  me  there,  while  I  preached  preparatory  to  the  com- 
munion, upon  John  xv.  12.  On  the  ensuing  day,  (Sun- 
day), by  the  request  of  Mr.  Marsh,  who  was  indisposed, 
I  preached,  both  morning  and  evening,  at  his  church. 
Several  friends  visited  me  at  Mr.  Little's,  and  we  closed 
the  day  with  prayer.  I  was  rather  surprised  to  learn, 
that  I  lodged,  at  Mr.  Little's,  upon  the  very  same  bed,  in 
which  Mr.  Whitefield  had  reposed;  and  that  I  had  preach- 
ed in  the  pulpit,  before  which  he  was  entombed.  I  con- 
tinued in  Newburyport,  passing  my  time  most  pleasantly, 
a  second  Sunday;  I  preached,  morning  and  evening,  in 
the  pulpit  of  Mr.  Marsh;  I  gave  frequent  lectures  there, 
and  in  the  meeting-house  of  Mr.  Parsons,  who  always  sat 
■  in  the  pulpit  with  me,  and  frequently  entertained  me  most 
hospitably  at  his  house.  His  lady  appeared  to  merit  a 
rank  among  the  most  accomplished  of  women;  she  was 
highly  social,  sentimental,  and  pleasant.  The  circle  of 
my  friends  in  Newburyport  was  very  respectable.  Upon 
a  lecture  evening,  after  I  had  closed,  an  old,  grey-headed 
man,  a  member  of  Mr.  Parson's  church,  quitting  his  seat, 
addressed  the  congregation,  and  in  a  loud  voice  said:  'My 
friends,  this  is  a  servant  of  the  living  God,  who  is  come 
from  a  far  country,  to  proclaim  the  glad  tidings  of  salva- 
tion.     We  have  too  long  been  in  darkness;  yea,  our 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 


197 


tongues  have  cleaved  to  the  roofs  of  our  mouths,  and  this 
man  is  sent  to  animate  and  renew  our  faith.'  Many  bless- 
ed God,  thev  had  seen  and  heard  me;  and  all  this  I  impu- 
ted to  a  want  of  knowledge,  relative  to  the  extent  of  the 
elad  tidings  I  promulgated.  The  Grace,  Union,  and 
Membership,  upon  which  I  expatiated,  were  admitted  by 
every  Calvinist,  but  admitted  only  for  the  elect;  and  when 
1  repeated  those  glorious  texts  of  scripture,  which  indispu- 
tably proclaim  the  redeinption  of  the  lost  world, — as  I  did 
not  expressly  say,  My  brethren,  I  receive  these  texts  in 
the  unlimited  sense  in  which  they  are  given, — they  were 
not  apprized,  that  I  did  not  read  them  with  the  same  con- 
tracted views,  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed.  When 
they  became  assured  of  the  magnitude  and  unbounded  re- 
sult, which  I  ascribed  to  the  birth,  life,  and  death  of  the 
Redeemer,  their  doors  were  fast  closed  against  me.  For 
myself,  I  was  in  unison  with  Mr.  Relly,  who  supposed  the 
gradual  dawn  of  light  would  eventually  prove  more  bene- 
ficial to  mankind,  than  the  sudden  burst  of  meridian  day. 
Thus  1  was  contented  with  proclaiming  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus,  in  scripture  language  only, — leaving  to  my  hear- 
ers deductions,  comments,  and  applications. 

While  I  continued  at  Newburyport,  numerous  solicita- 
tions poui-ed  upon  me,  from  various  quarters;  but,  in 
haste  to  return  to  Philadelphia,  I  could  only  comply  with 
the  urgent  importunities  of  several  gentlemen  from  Ports- 
mouth, to  which  place  I  journied  on  the  10th  of  November, 
1773.  I  was  received  at  Portsmouth  with  most  flattering 
marks  of  kindness.  The  pulpit  of  the  separate  minister, 
Mr.  Drown,  then  recently  deceased,  was  thrown  open  to 
me;  the  congregations  were  large;  my  adherents  were 
truly  respectable,  and  I  was  earnestly  urged  to  take  up 
my  residence  among  them.  The  meeting-house  of  Mr. 
Drown  being  too  small,  I  was  invited  into  the  pulpit  of 
Dr.  L ,  in  which  I  preached,  two  clergymen  occu- 
pying seats  therein.  In  Portsmouth  I  received  many 
marks  of  friendship;  my  necessities  were  sought  out,  and 
removed;  and  the  name  of  Clarkson,  Morrison,  Hart,  and 
Drown,  son  of  the  deceased  minister,  were,  on  that  first 
visit,  among  my  most  partial  friends.  I  returned  to  New- 
buryport, accompanied  by  Mr.  Morrison  and  Mr  Drown, 
and  again  delivered  my  testimony  in  the  pulpits  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Parsons  and  Mr.  Marsh.  Mr.  Parsons  request- 
ed I  would  write  to  him  from  Philadelphia;  and  on  Wed- 
nesday, November  17th,  I  returned  to  Boston,  where  I 
learned,  that  a  spirit  of  inquiry  was  in  operation  among 
my  friends;  that  their  bibles  were  in  their  hands;  and  that 


198  LIFE    OF    REV,    JOHN    MURRAY. 

they  were  diligently  employed  in  searching  the  scriptures, 
to  find  whether  these  things  were  indeed  so.  Upon  the 
evening  of  the  18th,  I  preached  in  the  mansion  of  my  ven- 
erable friend,  Mr.  Peck;  and  I  was  distinguished  by  him 
and  his  lady,  with  even  parental  kindness:  Mrs.  Peck  en- 
treating me  to  inform  my  mother,  that  I  had  found,  in  the 
new  world,  a  second  maternal  friend.  It  was  upon  this 
occasion,  that  I  audibly  exclaimed:  O  God!  thou  hast  still 
continued  my  God,  and  my  guide;  let  me  not  forget  to 
render  praises  unto  Thee. 

At  the  period  of  whw'h  I  am  speaking,  there  in  Boston 
were  a  number  of  Deists,  who  attended  my  labors.  Their 
leader  gave  me  frequent  invitations  to  visit  him;  he  sum- 
'  (joned  his  friends,  with  v/hom  he  united  in  expressing  his 
abhorrence  of  the  character  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  To  this 
gentleman  I  dwelt  upon  the  respectable  proofs,  by  which 
the  authenticity  of  scripture  was  supported,  and  I  took 
leave  to  observe,  that  he  must  have  received  the  character 
of  Paul  from  his  enemies;  that  Paul  was  indubitably  a 
learned  man,  brought  up  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel;  that  he 
was  celebrated  as  an  orator;  and  that  his  morals  were  un- 
impeached.  It  was  true,  he  was  said  to  have  advocated  a 
most  comfortless  doctrine,--to  ha\e  affirmed,  that  a  few 
were  elected  to  everlasting  life;  while,  by  the  same  irreversi- 
ble decree,  countless  millions  were  consigned  to  remedi- 
less and  never-ending  misery.  But,  I  added,  sirs,  believe 
it  not;  for,  verily,  the  doctrine,  that  God  was  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  was  uniformly  pro- 
claimed by  our  great  Apostle.  The  doctrine  of  election  is, 
questionless,  to  be  found  in  the  pages  of  this  evangelical 
writer;  but  reprobation  is  not  a  necessary  consequence  of 
election,  nor  does  it  appear  in  the  writings  of  the  Apostle 
to  the  Gentiles.  A  governor  is  elected  by  a  common- 
wealth, a  council,  senators,  representatives  are  elected; 
but  are  the  people  therefore  consigned  to  perdition  ?  Thus 
I  went  on,  and  my  little  audience  with  lifted  hands  ex- 
claimed: '  This  plan  is  worthy  of  a  God;  and  we  felici- 
tate you,  dear  sir,  as  the  Ambassador  of  Deity.'  The  hall 
of  the  Factory,  and  the  dwelling  of  my  friend  being  too 
small  for  the  increasing  congregation,  Mr.  Peck  proposed 
I  should  publish  a  lecture  in  the  meeling-houso  of  Mr. 

Q J  of  which  he  was  the  principal  support.    I  at  first 

declined  this  proposal;  but  his  repeated,  and  earnest  so- 
licitations, induced  me  to  preach  in  Mr.  C- — -^ — 's  pulpit. 
In  the  hall  of  the  Factory  also,  I  again  delivered  my  mes- 
sage; and  on  Friday,  IS^ovember  26th,  I  preached  at  Fa,-|' 
neuU  Hall:  my  subject,  John  viii,  86:  Jf  the  Son y  there'] 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  199 

/ore,  shall  make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free  indeed,    The\ 
principal  gentlemen  of  the  town  were  among  my  audience,  (^ 
who  heard  me  with  great  seriousness.     After  lecture,  ma- 1 
ny  took  me  by  the  hand,  and,  urging  me  to  return  to  them  f 
speedily,  prayed   in  the  warmest  manner,  for  my  success, 
as  a  gospel  promulgator.     This  was  the  last  night  of  my 
abode  in  Boston,  on  my  first  visit.     I  passed  it  at  Mr. 
Peck's,  accompanied  by  some  friends,  and  we  devoted  it 
to  scriptural  investigations.     My  continuance  in  Boston 
was  strongly  urged;  but  I  was  under  the  necessity  of  de- 
parting, and  devotional  prayers  for  my  safety,  success, 
and  speedy  return,  were  reiterated — such  are  my  Cre- 
dentials.    I   left  Boston   on    Saturday,   November  27; 
reaching  Providence  upon  the  evening  of  that  day,  where, 
again  and  again,  I  delivered  my  testimony  in  the  pulpit  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Snow.     Departing  thence,  on  the  Tuesday 
following,  accompanied  by  my  dear  young  friend,  Mr. 
Binney,  for  East-Greenwich,  I  met  some  very  dear  frionds, 
and,  as  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so  was  my  countenance 
brightened,  and  my  spirit  soothed  and  cheered. 

From  this  period,  IN^ovember  30th,  until  the  close  of 
January,  1774,  when  I  reached  my  lodging-place,  at  the 
house  of  my  patron,  I  moved  slowly  on,  preaching  glad  ti- 
dings in  various  places,  friends  and  enemies  still  multiply- 
ing. At  New-London  my  opportunities  of  preaching 
were  repeated  and  the  number  of  my  treasures  propor- 
tionably  augmented;  Hertell,  Whey,  Trwewa/i,  these  were 
of  the  true  circumcision,  who  worshipped  God  in  the  spir- 
it, rejoicing  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  having  no  confidence  in 
the  flesh;  and  my  orisons  were  daily  offered  up  to  the 
God  of  all  consolation,  that  the  number  of  such  genuine 
believers  might  be  increased.  I  delight  to  dwell  upon  the 
days  I  have  passed  in  New-London.  Deshon,  Wheat, 
Saltonstall,  Packwood,  Law,  Huntington,  Champlin,  Hub- 
bard, &,c.  8tc.,  very  pleasant  have  ye  been  unto  me.  May 
the  blessing  of  God  descend  upon  your  children's  children, 
to  the  latest  generation. 

One  capital  difficulty,  which  has  encompassed  me  in 
my  progress  through  this  younger  world,  has  been  the  ex- 
treme reluctance  of  inquirers  to  receive  their  answers  in 
scripture  language.  Standing  alone,  I  have  sought  to 
wrap  myself,  or  rather  to  intrench  myself  in  the  sacred 
testimony  of  my  God;  and  for  this  I  have  been  accused  of 
prevarication,  equivocation,  and  what  not?  merely  be- 
cause I  have  not  generally  chosen  to  garb  my  sentiments 
in  my  own  words.  For  example :  The  interrogator  com- 
mences with  a  great  many  compliments,  and  then  follows: 


200  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

*  Do  you  believe  all  men  will  finally  be  saved?'  I  believe, 
it  is  good  and  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour, 
who  will  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  and  to  come  unto  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth.  '  But  do  you  yourself  believe, 
that  all  mankind  will  finally  be  saved  ?'  God  hath  included 
all  in  unbelief,  that  he  may  have  mercy  upon  all.  But  will 
all  be  finally  saved?  '  God  hath  spoken  of  the  restitution 
of  all  things,  by  the  mouth  of  all  his  holy  prophets,  since  the 
world  began.  '  But  still  you  do  not  answer  my  question.' 
Why,  sir,  for  any  thing  1  know,  the  authors,  I  have  cited, 
mean,  by  their  words,  precisely  the  same  as  I  do.  I  adopt 
their  language,  because  I  conceive  it  expresses  my  own 
ideas  better  than  any  set  of  phrases  I  could  press  into  my 
service.  This  mode,  however,  has  rarely  given  satisfac- 
tion. Persons  dare  not,  in  an  unqualified  manner,  deny 
the  validity  of  scripture  testimony;  they  can  only  assert, 
it  does  not  mean  as  it  speaks,  and  they  earnestly  repeat  the 
question :  '  Do  you  believe,'  &c.  &c.  While  my  respon^ 
ses  are  drawn  from  the  sacred  streams,  flowing  in  the  book 
of  God,  from  Genesis  to  Revelations,  still  they  importu- 
nately, sometimes  clamorously  demand:  'But  do  you  take 
those  scriptures,  as  they  are  spoken?  To  which  I  can 
only  reply :  I  have  no  reason  to  believe  that,  by  saying 
one  thing,  and  meaning  another,  men,  so  upright,  have 
formed  a  plan  to  deceive  me.  An  attempt  has  then  been 
made  to  prove  the  texts  in  question  did  not,  could  not, 
mean  as  they  spake.  To  which  I  have  answered:  Mul- 
titudes are  on  your  side;  many  have  labored  to  prove  God 
a  liar;  but  I  have  never  yet  heard  any  argument,  sufficient- 
ly potent,  to  convince  me  that  He  is  so. 

On  the  ninth  of  April,  in  this  year,  I  received  from  the 
church  and  congregation  in  Portsmouth,  New-Hampshire, 
worshipping  in  the  separate  meeting-house,  a  solemn,  and 
aflfectioiiate  call,  to  take  upon  me  the  pastoral  charge  of 
that  people;  but  I  was  not  then  convinced  I  ought  to  ac- 
cept an  establishment  in  any  place.  I  passed  the  spring, 
and  the  early  part  of  the  summer  of  1774,  in  Pennsylva- 
nia, the  Jersies,  and  New-York  with  persons,  who  had 
drank  into  the  same  spirit  with  myself;  with  my  revered 
friend,  and  father,  with  the  Mounts  and  Pangburns  of 
these  happy  days.  Blessed  be  God,  I  have  indeed  enjoy 
ed  richly  the  consolations  of  friendship.  In  Philadelphia 
I  was  present  at  the  heart-rending  trial  of  some  malefac- 
tors, which  resulted  in  their  receiving  sentence  of  death: 
and  I  could  not  forbear  exclaiming:  Oh,  Adam,  what 
HAST  THOU  DONE  ?  My  bosom  swells  to  rapture,  upon  the 
reflection,  that  I  had  frequent  opportunities  of  visiting 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHJS    MURRAY.  201 

those  criminals,  and  of  preaching  to  them  peace,  through 
the  fountain  opened  in  the  side  of  the  second  Adam.  The 
poor  creatures  seemed  much  affected.  The  proclamation 
of  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Redeemer  was  more  effectual, 
than  all  the  terrors  of  Mount  Sinai.  Departing  from 
New  York,  about  the  20th  of  July,  I  passed,  by  short 
stages,  through  Connecticut  and  Rhode-Island,  visiting 
my  friends  in  various  directions,  and  deriving  inexpressi- 
ble satisfaction  from  beholding  their  order,  their  zeal,  and 
the  magnitude  of  their  faith.  On  the  16th  of  August,  the 
governor  of  Rhode-Island  sent  me  a  passage  of  scripture, 
soliciting  me  to  take  it  for  my  subject:  It  may  be  found, 
Mark  xiv,  10.  The  governor  attended,  and  after  I  had 
closed,  took  my  hand  with  much  cordiality,  and  expressed 
himself  well  satisfied,  and  truly  grateful. 

September  14th,  1774^  I  again  reached  Boston.  My 
friends  had  long  been  expecting  me,  and  I  was  received 
and  with  demonstrations  of  heart-felt  joy.  Through  the 
greatest  part  of  this  autumn,  I  continued  preaching  in  the 
hall  of  the  factory;  in  the  mansion  of  my  venerable  friend, 
and  at  Faneuil-Hall  Once  I  attempted  to  preach  in  Ma- 
sons'-Hall;  but  the  throng,  and  consequent  confusion 
were  so  great,  that  I  was  necessitated  to  desist,  even  after 
I  had  worded  my  text:  and  finally,  the  congregation  still 
augmenting,  I  yielded  to  the  pressing  solicitations  of  the 

proprietors  of  Mr.  C 's  meeting-house,  and  repeatedly 

delivered  my  testimony  there.  On  the  31st  of  October,  a 
gentleman,  by  the  name  of  Sargent,  called  upon  me  from 
Gloucester,  urging  me  to  accompany  him  to  his  place  of 
residence.  My  engagements  would  not  allow  my  imme- 
diate attendance,  but  I  gave  my  word  for  an  early  compli- 
ance with  his  wishes.  November  2d,  Wednesday  even- 
ing, I  named  as  the  subject  of  my  public  lecture,  Luke  13th, 
from  the  24th  to  the  30th.  After  I  had  closed,  a  clergy- 
man, of  a  respectable  appearance,  whom  I  had  never  be- 
fore seen,  ascended  the  stairs  of  the  pulpit,  and  addressed 
the  people  to  the  following  effect:  '  My  friends,  you  have 
heard  a  great  deal  said,  (for  what  purpose  I  know  not,) 
which  is  calculated  to  lead  you  astray  from  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  text.  The  passage  refers  to  the  general  judg- 
ment, and  to  nothing  else;  and  all,  that  has  been  said, 
can  only  originate  wrong  ideas  of  the  scriptures;  for  how 
can  it  be,  that  the  Jews  should  be  intended  by  those,  who 
were  shut  out?  When  did  the  Jews  see  Abraham,  and 
Isaac,  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  God?  or  how  is  it  pos- 
sible, that,  if  they  should  thus  behold  them,  they  could 
ever  be  happy  ?  It  is  not  possible,  that  any,  who  die  in  a 
18 


202  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

State  of  unbelief,  should  ever  be  happy  to  all  eternity;  and 
therefore,  my  brethren,  1  would  exhort  you  to  take  care 
you  are  not  led  astray  b}'^  the  words  of  man's  wisdom,  and 
the  cunning  craftiness  of  men,  whereby  they  lay  in  wait 
to  deceive.  O!  it  is  very  dangerous  to  give  heed  to  such 
things.'  Thus  the  gentleman  proceeded,  earnestly  warn- 
ing the  people,  and  then  paused.  Again  I  arose,  saying:. 
Now  this  is  well;  I  like  this.  How  infinitely  preferable  to 
secret  calumny;  no  bush-fighting  here.  And,  so  much 
am  I  gratified  with  this  ingenuous  manner  of  dealing  with 
me,  that  it  is  with  extreme  reluctance  I  find  it  necessary 
to  dissent  from  him  in  opinion.  Yet  I  must  beg  leave  to 
observe:  In  the  first  place,  the  gentleman  must  assuredly 
be  wrong,  in  supposing  the  passage  in  question  refers  to 
the  general  and  jinal  judgment.  Do  but  attend  to  the 
concluding  verse:  There  are  last,  which  shall  hejirst,  and 
Jirst,  which  shall  be  last.  Surely,  the  text  would  not  be 
thus  warded,  if  the  last  judgment  were  designed.  The 
parable  of  the  ten  virgins  illustrates  this  passage.  Then 
turning  to  the  11th  of  Romans,  I  pointed  out  some  par- 
ticulars, which  are  generally  passed  unnoticed;  and  when 
I  read,  '/or  God  hath  included  them  allin  UNBELIEF, 
that  he  might  have  mercy  upon  all,'  my  opponent,  rising, 
looked  over  my  shoulder  evidently  to  ascertain,  if  I  had 
given  the  genuine  reading  of  the  text;  upon  which  a  law- 
yer, in  the  assembly,  exclaimed:  'I  advise  you,  sir,  to 
retire,  and  read  your  bible.'  I  begged  we  might  not  be  in- 
terrupted; and  I  afllirmed,  that  my  antagonist  was  entitled 
to  my  cordial  thanks,  and  that  I  devoutly  wished  his  ex- 
ample might  be  generally  influential.  I  then  proceeded 
to  show,  that  it  was  possible  an  individual  might  pass 
out  of  time,  ignorant  of  God  an  yet  be  taught  of  God  in 
that  great  day,  when  the  books  should  be  opened.  I  read 
the  last  part  of  the  22d  Psalm,  making  a  few  remarks  there- 
on; and,  after  exhorting  the  audience  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  the  Bereans,  paused  for  a  reply.  The  gentleman 
affirmed,  I  had  given  an  erroneous  view  of  the  parable  of 
the  ten  virgins;  that  it  pointed  out  the  visible  church,  and 
that  the  foolish  virgins  were  the  hypocrites:  and  he  admon- 
ished the  people  to  beware  of  false  teachers,  &c.  &c.  To 
which  I  replied,  by  presuming  the  gentleman  did  not  rec- 
ollect, that  the  foolish  virgins  seemed  to  be  equally  a  part  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  with  the  wise  virgins,  otherwise  he 
would  not  so  liberally  consigned  them  to  the  devil.  He 
would  have  us  believe,  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  the  visible 
church;  such  are  the  sentiments  of  His  Holiness  at  Rome; 
but  having  abjured  one  Pope,  I  trusted  we  should  not 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  305 

again  be  brought  into  subjection  to  principles,  the  propri- 
ety of  which  our  hearts  refused  to  acknowledge. 

November  Sd,  I  repaired  to  Gloucester,  and  was  re- 
ceived by  a  few  very  warm-hearted  Christians.  The 
mansion-house — the  heart,  of  the  then  head  of  the  Sargent 
family,  with  his  highly  accomplished,  and  most  exemplary 
lady,  were  open  to  receive  me.  I  had  travelled  from  Ma- 
ryland to  New-Hampshire,  without  meeting  a  single  in- 
dividual, who  appeared  to  have  the  smallest  idea  of  what 
I  esteemed  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus;  but  to  my  great 
astonishment,  there  were  a  few  persons,  dwellers  in  that 
remote  place,  upon  whom  the  light  of  the  gospel  had  more 
than  dawned.  The  writings  of  Mr.  Relly  were  not  only 
in  their  hands,  but  in  their  hearts.  Four  years  previous  to 
this  period,  an  Englishman,  a  Mr.  Gregory,  had  brought 
with  him  those  obnoxious  pages,  and  loaned  them  to  this 
small  circle  of  Gloucesterians,  by  whom  they  had  been 
seized  with  avidity;  the  Father  of  their  spirits  rendered 
them  luminous  to  their  understandings;  and  it  was  in 
consequence  of  their  admiration  of  Mr.  Relly,  that,  ob- 
serving in  the  papers  of  the  day,  an  individual  malignantly 
arrainged,  as  a  preacher  of  Kelly's  Gospel,  they  delayed 
not  to  despatch  earnest  solicitations  for  my  presence  among 
them.  In  Gloucester,  therefore,  I  passed  my  time  most 
agreeably,  until  November  12th.  The  clergyman  of  the 
principal  meeting-house,  being  confined  by  illness,  I  was 
visited  by  the  deacons,  and  elders  of  his  church,  and  by 
them  conducted  to  his  house,  after  which  I  obtained  per- 
mission to  preach  in  his  pulpit,  which  I  several  times  did; 
my  subjects,  1  Cor.  xi.  26:  The  good  Samaritan:  Isaiah 
xxviii,  16,  &.C.  Every  day,  and  every  evening  was  appro- 
priated to  the  expounding  of  the  scriptures,  in  the  spa- 
cious and  well  filled  parlor  of  my  new,  and  highly  re- 
spectable friend;  and  I  had  reason  to  believe,  that  God 
most  graciously  crovmed  my  labors  in  .this  place,  by  giving 
to  some  brighter  views,  and  inducing  others  to  search  the 
scriptures  for  themselves.  Every  morning  commenced, 
and  every  day  closed,  with  prayer;  and,  with  glad  hearts, 
we  delighted  to  hymn  the  praises  of  a  redeeming  God. 
Taking  a  most  affectionate  leave  of  those  very  dear  friends, 
on  Saturday  morning,  accompanied  by  Mr  Sargent,  I  re- 
turned to  Boston.     Upon   the  evenings  of  Sunday,  and 

Wednesday,  I  agam  occupied  the  pulpit  of  Mr  C , 

and  upon  the  evening  of  Wednesday  the  audience  were 
incommoded  by  a  profusion  of  water  thrown  over  them, 
and  an  es,^  was  aimed  at  me  in  the  pulpit,  which  however 
happened  to  miss  me.     On  Thursday  a  piece  of  slander 


204  Li^E  OF  REV.  John  WtrRRAT. 

was  published  in  the  paper  of  the  day,  over  the  signature 

of  Mr  C .     He  had  before  dedaredj  he  would  print 

no  more  in  the  newspaper,  so  had  I;  but  although  he  had 
forfeited  his  word,  I  did  not  think  proper  to  follow  his  ex- 
ample, and  I  therefore  addressed  the  following  letter,  to 
his  private  ear. 

Sir: 
Some  time  since,  being  under  the  disagreeable  neces- 
sity of  replying  to  a  dull  repetition  of  your  abusive 
slanders,  and  being  persuaded,  right  or  wrong,  you  would 
have  the  last  word,  I  assured  the  public  I  would  write  no 
more  in  newspapers  ;  so  did  you  but  your  brilliant  exam- 
ple shall  never  influence  me  to  undertake  the  vindication 
of  my  veracity,  by  convincing  the  world  I  can  lie.  But 
as,  in  the  close  of  your  last  performance,  you  informed 
me  and  the  public,  that,  if  I  thought  myself  wronged, 
what  had  been  asserted  should  be  proved  to  my  face, 
before  as  large  an  auditory  as  I  pleased  I  now,  sir,  take 
leave  to  say,  I  do  think  myself  most  cruelly  wronged,  and 
I  should  rejoice  in  an  opportunity  of  vindicating  myself 
at  the  bar  of  the  impartial  public;  yes,  I  should  rejoice  to 
see  a  very  large  audience  collected:  but,  as  I  suppose  we 
shall  not  be  able  to  procure  any  place,  but  the  meeting- 
house in  School-street,  I  shall  expect,  if  you  be  an  honest 
man,  to  meet  you  there.  You  commend  a  certain  gentle- 
man, who  recently  spoke  to  me  in  that  house — so  do  I. 
He  did  not,  like  Solomon's  fool,  cast  about  firebrands^ 
arrows,  and  death,  and  say  am  I  not  in  sport?  he  spake 
above-board,  fair,  and  openly.  I  should  be  glad  you 
would  come  and  do  likewise — ^^only  I  request  you  will  let  me 
know  in  writing,  by  the  bearer,  when  you  will  do  this 
piece  of  common  justice,  to  the  cruelly,  and  most  unwar- 
rantably treated, 

JOHN  MURRAY. 

This  letter  enraged  him,  and  he  sent  it  back,  declaring 
he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  me.  But  on  the  follow- 
ing  Sunday  evening,  when  I  repaired,  as  usual,  to  the 

meeting-house    to   preach   Mr   C was     upon    the 

stairs  of  the  pulpit,  with  a  number  of  his  violent  adherents, 
for  the  purpose  of  barring  me  out.  Making  no  resistance, 
I  requested  the  gentleman  might  be  heard  with  patient 

attention;  and  silence  being  obtained,  Mr  C entered 

the  pulpit,  and  declaimed  for  a  long  time,  with  great  bit- 
terness; accusing  me  of  preaching  damnable  doctrines, 
though  he  had  never  heard  me  preach  ;  but  so  he  had 


LIF£    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  205 

been  informed,  asserting  that  I  was  one  of  Kelly's  follow 
ers,  and  Relly  believed  all  mankind  would  be  saved;  and 
Relly  was  a  blasphemer  and  denied  the  atonement;  and  I 
was  a  Deistj  and  it  v/as  dangerous  to  allow  me  to  speak; 
for  I  said  once,  in  his  hearing,  that  God  loved  the  devil's 
children :  and  then,  raising  his  voice  he  vociferated,  *  It 
is  a  lie,  a  lie,  a  lie,  it  is  a  damnable  He.'  Thus  he  went 
on  alternately  crying  out  against  me,  and  against  Mr. 
Relly,  damning  my  preaching,  and  his  writings,  and  ex- 
horting the  people  to  avoid  me,  &c.  &c.  When  he  had 
concluded,  he  quitted  the  pulpit,  and  was  passing  out  of 
the  house  as  speedily  as  possible.  I  requested  him  to  stop  ; 
but,  observing  he  was  rapidly  departing,  I  urged  the 
people  to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  having  justice  done 
me,  by  detaining  my  accusing  adversary  that  I  might  de- 
fend myself  in  his  presence;  and  Mr.  C was  accord- 
ingly led  into  a  pew.  I  informed  the  audience  that  I  did 
indeed  labor  under  great  difficulty.  The  person,  to  whom 
I  was  about  to  reply  was  an  old  gentleman  and  a  clergy- 
man, both  of  which  characters  were  indubitably  entitled 
to  respect.  Yet  truth  was,  in  my  opinion,  abundantly 
superior  to  every  other  consideration;  it  was  beyond  all 

Frice;  a  gem,  with  which  its  possessor  should  never  part, 
should  therefore  take  leave  to  say,  Mr.  C was 

very  right,  and  very  wrong.  Right  in  condemning  damna- 
ble doctrines  wrong  in  charging  me  with  preaching  those, 

doctrines.     Mr.  C ,  I  said  reminded  me  of  Nero 

who  to  be  revenged  upon  the  Christians,  caught  the  city 
of  Rome  on  fire,  and  charged  the  Christians  with  the 

atrocious  deed.     Mr.  C had  dressed  me  in  bear's 

skins,  and  then  set  the  dogs  at  me.  He  affirms,  that  I 
preach  damnable  doctrines!  Suffer  me  to  ask,  What  are 
damnable  doctrines?  Peter  says.  There  shall  arise  false 
teachers  among  you,  as  there  were  false  prophets  among 
the  people,  who  shall  privily  bring  in  damnable  doctrines, 
even  denying  the  Lord,  who  bought  them.  I  appeal  to 
this  audience.  Did  I  ever  deny  the  Lord  who  bought 
you?  On  the  contrary,  have  I  not  borne  constant  testi- 
mony to  this  purchase  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  me  say,  It 
made  no  difference,  whether  a  man  lived  a  good  or  a  bad 
life;  was  a  believer  or  an  unbeliever?  Surely  it  is  highly 
inconsistent  to  rank  me  with  the  Deist,  who  utterly  dis- 
owns the  Redeemer,  when  I  am  arraigned  at  this  bar  for 
believing  there  is  no  God  out  of  Christ,  and  that  He,  who 
is  God,  our  Saviour,  is  all,  and  in  all.     Mr.  Relly  is  three 

thousand  miles  from  this  metropolis,   Mr.  C has 

neither  seen  nor  heard  him.     Blasphemy,  of  which  Mr, 
18 


206  LIFE    OP   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY 

-accuses  him,  is  no  where  to  be  found,  in  his  wri- 


tings.    These  writings,  give  me  leave  to  say,  will  live 
and  be   held  in    admiration,    when   ten   thousand  such 

characters  as  Mr  C 's  and  mine,  will  be  consigned 

to  oblivion.  Thus  I  went  on.  Mr.  C again  ad- 
vanced to  the  pulpit;  reiterated  what  he  had  before 
asserted,  without  regarding  a  syllable  which  I  had  utter- 
ed, until  at  length  he  interrogated:  'Does  God  love 
all  the  people  in  the  world  as  well  as  Peter  and  Paul? 
Suffer  me,  sir,  first  to  ask  you  one  question,  which,  if  you 
will  answer,  thon  I  will  reply  to  yours.  Did  God  love  Pe- 
ter, and  Paul,  as  well  before  they  believed  as  afterwards? 
'  God  loved  Peter,  and  Paul,  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world.'  Again,  and  again,  I  repeated  my  question,  but 
could  not  obtain  a  direct  answer.  The  people  from  the 
galleries  called  out,  '  Why  do  you  not  say  yes,  or  no?' — 
but  he  refused  thus  to  commit  himself,  and  of  course  I 
dropped  the  inquiry.  Again  he  returned  to  the  charge. 
'  Does  God  love  all  the  people  in  the  world,  as  well  as 
Peter,  and  Paul?'  Yes,  sir,  I  believe  He  does,  as  well 
as  He  loved  those  Apostles  before  they  believed.  '  Do 
you  believe  God  loves  all  the  people  in  the  world?'  Yes, 
sir,  I  do.  Then,  again  he  proceeded  most  violently,  and, 
that  the  heresy  might  be  confirmed,  he  once  more  ques- 
tioned: 'Do  you  believe,  that  God  loves  the  devil's  chil- 
dren, as  well  as  his  own  beloved  ones?'  No,  indeed;  I 
do  not  think  God  loves  any  of  the  devil's  children, 
'There,  there,  now  he  is  hiding  again.'  Suffer  me,  sir, 
to  ask.  What  is  it  constitutes  the  character  of  the  wicked 
man?     '  That  is  nothing  to  the  purpose.' 

Again  I  ask,  what  is  it  constitutes  the  character  of  the 
wicked  man  ?  Here  several  individuals  tremulously  ask- 
ed: '  Why  do  you  not  answer  the  question  ?  we  are  all 
concerned  in  it,  we  are  seeking  information.'  '  Suppose 
I  cannot:  let  some  one  else  answer,  and,  if  I  like  it,  I  will 
agree  to  it.'  No  answer  was  given,  and  Mr.  C re- 
sumed his  declamation,  affirming,  I  had  said,  God  loved 
the  devil's  children.  I  denied  the  charge,  and  was  again 
accused  of  hiding,  when  I  besought  the  attention  of  the 
people,  while  I  explained  myself.  What  are  we  to  un- 
derstand by  a  father,  and  a  child,  but  begetter  and  begot- 
ten ?     Can  you,  Mr.  C — ,  or  can  any  one  present, 

presume  to  say,  that  the  bodies,  or  the  souls  of  mankind, 
were  begotten  by  the  devil  ?  Is  not  God  the  father  of  the 
spirits  of  all  flesh?  Is  not  God  the  Maker  of  our  frames? 
and  doth  not  the  Apostle  say,  we  are  all  His  offspring.' 
If  it  be  confessed,  we  all  died  in  Adam,  we  were  of  course 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHX    MURRAY.  SPJT 

in  Adam;  and  if  we  were  in  Adam,  we  were  what  Adam 
was.  But  the  Evangelist  Luke  affirms,  that  Adam  was 
the  Son  of  God.  We  will  next  inquire,  Who  are  the 
children  of  the  devil,  and  who  are  the  children  of  God? 
I  humbly  conceive,  Christ  Jesus  himself  has  put  the  mat- 
ter beyond  dispute,  in  the  ever  memorable  parable  of  the 
Tares  of  the  field,  and  our  obligation  to  the  Redeemer, 
for  explaining  it  so  clearly  to  his  disciples,  is  indeed  im- 
measurable. 1  then  repeated  the  parable,  and  the  expla- 
nation: and  proved  from  thence,  that  the  abominations  of 
the  earth,  were  the  children  of  the  devil,  becausepro 
duced  by  him;  that  the  iniquities  of  the  people  w^ere 
the  tares,  sowed  by  the  adversary;  that  our  nature  was 
the  good  seed,  which  Jesus  sowed.  A  holy  God  could 
not  love  sin  and,  of  course,  could  love  no  child  of  the 
devil:  but  men,  being  his  offspring.  He  once  loved  them 
as  his  own,  and  having  loved  His  own.  He  loved  them 
unto  the  end;  that  He  had  proved  this  to  all  men,  in 
the    Gift  of  his  Son;  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He 

gave   them  his   Son.     Mr.  C- interrupted:     ^  Nine 

tenths  of  all  you  have  said  is  nothing  at  all  to  the  purpose : 
and  again,  in  terms  the  most  violent,  he  renewed  his  ac- 
cusation, that  I  was  all  the  time  hiding.  A  voice  from 
the  gallery  exclaimed:  *  If  he  be  hiding,  why  do  you  not 
hunt  him  out  of  the  bush .'"  Mr.  C at  length  taunt- 
ingly said:  *  Come,  come,  leave  off  hiding,  and  tell  the 
people,  in  plain  English,  that  God  loves  them  all.'  To 
which  I  answered:  I  will,  sir,  in  as  plain  English,  as  I 
can  command; — and  then,  addressing  the  congregation,  I 
thus  delivered  the  genuine  sentiments  of  my  soul :  I  am 
commissioned  to  say,  to  every  individual  before  me,  that 
God  loves  you,  and  that  you  are  not  to  accept  this  dec- 
laration upon  my  bare  word;  you  have  the  word  of  a  God, 
which  cannot  lie;  who  proclaims  Himself  loving  unto  every 
man;  who  has  given  you  proof  positive  of  His  love.  His 
love  has  been  greatly  manifested  in  your  birth;  in  rear- 
ing you  from  infancy;  in  guarding  you  through  the  devi- 
ous paths  of  childhood,  and  youth;  and  preserving  you 
from  ten  thousand  dangers,  to  which  you  have  been  ex- 
posed. His  gracious  providence,  in  so  plentifully  provi- 
ding for  you,  is  a  proof  of  His  love,  four  civil,  and  re- 
ligious liberties  are  blessed  proofs  of  the  love  of  your  God. 
These  particulars  announce  the  love  of  Deity,  to  every  indi- 
vidual, as  a  Creator,  and  Preserver.  Yet  these  manifesta- 
tions may  be  considered  as  merely  temporal :  But,  blessed 
be  the  holy  name  of  Jehovah !  I  am  authorised  to  add, 
and  in  plain  English  too,  that  God  loves  the  soul,  which 


208  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

emanates  from  Himself,  and  that  He  has  proved  this  love 
by  the  gift  of  His  son.  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave  them  His  son  ;  To  us  a  child  is  born,  to  us  a  Son  is 
given.  God  has  evinced  His  love,  by  giving  us,  in  this 
son,  Reconciliation,  Regeneration,  a  new  Head,  a  new 
Heart,  a  right  Spirit.  Here  your  Creator  so  loved  you, 
as  to  give  you  Wisdom,  Righteousness,  Sanctijication,  and 
Redemption.  In  Christ  Jesus,  God  has  so  loved  you,  as 
to  bless  you  with  all  spiritual  blessings;  Every  individu- 
al should  believe  this,  since  it  is  nothing  more  than  an  ac- 
complishment of  the  promise,  of  the  oath  of  Jehovah, 
which  he  swear  unto  Abraham,  saying  And  in  thy  Seed 
shall  all  the  nations,  all  the  families  of  the  earth,  be  blessed. 
Such  are  the  glad  tidings,  which  the  God,  who  loved  you 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  hath  commanded  us  to 
proclaim  to  every  one  of  you;  such  are  the  glad  tidings, 
which  you  ought  to  believe.  If  your  heart  tell  you,  It  is 
not  so,  believe  it  not,  it  is  an  unbelieving  heart;  he,  that 
trusteth  such  a  heart,  is  a  fool.  If  the  devil  tell  you.  It  is 
not  so,  believe  him  not,  he  was  a  liar  from  the  beginning. 
If  your  ministers  tell  you.  You  ought  not  to  believe  this 
good  report,  trust  them  not;  they  take  part  with  the  devil 
and  your  unbelieving  hearts.  The  devil  would  persuade 
you,  not  to  believe  these  glorious  truths,  because,  if  you 
were  delivered  from  his  usurpation,  you  would  hencefor- 
ward serve  your  Creator  without  fear.  The  arch  fiend 
is  solicitous  to  retain  you  in  bondage;  his  utmo.->t  efforts 
are  in  requisition  to  prevent  you  from  believing,  that 
God  has  so  loved  you,  as  to  purchase  you  with  the  price 
of  blood,  of  the  precious  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God;  he 
would  prevent  you  from  believing,  that  you  are  bought 
with  such  a  price,  lest,  thus  believing,  you  should  render 
yourselves  living  sacrifices,  holy,  and  acceptable  to  God 
But,  let  God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar.  Ye  are  not 
your  own,  ye  are  bought  with  a  price,  and  the  love  of 
Christ  constraineth  us,  because  we  thus  judge,  if  One  died 
for  all,  then  were  all  dead;  and  that  He  died  for  all,  that 
they,  who  live,  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves, 
but  unto  Him,  who  died  for  them,  and  rose  again. 

All  the  time  I  was  speaking,  Mr.  C was  kicking 

my  legs,  or  pulling  the  skirts  of  my  garment,  ever  and 
anon  vociferating:  '  Have  done,  have  done;  you  have 
said  enough;  quite  enough,'  &c.  &c.  Sometimes  he  stood 
up  close  to  my  side,  shouldering  me  as  hard  as  he  was 
able.  The  congregation  noticed  his  behavior,  and  it  did 
not  give  them  pleasure.  For  myself,  I  had  much  cause 
for  gratitude  to  my  divine  Master;  1st,  that  he  was  pleased 


LIFE   OP   REV.    JOHN   MURRIT  209 

to  give  me  words;  and  2dly,  that  he  did  not  suffer  me  to 
lose  my  self-command.  No,  not  for  an  instant.  Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

My  next  evening  lecture  was  uninterrupted;  but,  on  the 
succeeding  Sunday  evening,  the  throng  was  so  prodigious, 
that  it  was  with  much  difficulty  I  reached  the  pulpit;  and 
when  entered,  I  was  nearly  suffocated  by  the  strong  efflu- 
via, arising  from  the  asafcetida  with  which  the  tools  of  the 
adversary  had  wet  the  pulpit  and  the  pulpit  cloth,  plentiful- 
ly sprinkling  the  whole  house  with  the  same  noxious  drug. 
/For  some  moments  I  was  so  much  overpowered,  as  to  induce 
an  apprehension,  that  it  would  be  impossible  I  should  pro- 
ceed; but  the  God  of  my  life  was  sufficiently  abundant  for 
mo.  The  demons  of  confusion  were,  however,  not  quite 
satisfied;  many  stones  were  violently  thrown  into  the  win- 
dows; yet  no  one  received  any  other  injury,  than  the  alarm, 
which  was  created.  At  length,  a  large  rugged  stone,  weigh- 
ing about  a  pound  and  a  half,  was  forcibly  thrown  in  at  the 
window  behind  my  back;  it  missed  me.  Had  it  sped,  as 
It  was  aimed,  it  must  have  killed  me.  Lifting  it  up,  and 
waving  it  in  the  view  of  the  people,  I  observed:  This 
argument  is  solid,  and  weighty,  but  it  is  neither  rational 
nor  convincing.  Exclamations  from  various  parts  of  the 
house,  were  echoed,  and  re-echoed:  '  Pray,  sir,  leave  the 
pulpit,  your  life  is  at  hazard.'  Be  it  so,  I  returned,  the 
debt  of  nature  must  be  paid,  and  I  am  as  ready,  and  as  will- 
ing, to  discharge  it  now,  as  I  shall  be  fifty  years  hence. 
Yet,  for  your  consolation,  suffer  me  to  say,  I  am  immortal, 
while  He  who  called  me  into  existence  has  any  business 
for  me  to  perform;  and  when  he  has  executed  those  pur- 
poses, for  which  he  designed  me.  He  will  graciously  sign 
my  passport  to  realms  of  blessedness.  With  your  good 
leave,  then  I  pursue  my  subject,  and  while  I  have  a — 
Thus  saith  the  Lord — for  every  point  of  doctrine  which 
I  advance,  not  all  the  stones  in  Boston,  except  they  stop 
my  breath,  shall  shut  my  mouth,  or  arrest  my  testimony. 
The  congregation  was,  as  I  have  said,  astonishingly  large; 
but  order  and  silence  were  gradually  restored,  and  I  had 
uncommon  freedom  in  the  illustration,  and  defence  of 
those  sacred  truths,  which  will  be  ultimately  triumphant. 
Two  or  three  succeeding  lecture  evenings  were  unmolest- 
ed, when  the  business  of  stoning  me  in  the  pulpit,  was 
again  resumed;  my  friends  were  in  terror,  and,  after  I 
had  closed,  forming  a  strong  phalanx  around  me,  they  at- 
tended me  home.  Many  religious  people  were  violent 
in  their  opposition ;  they  insisted  that  I  merited  the  sever- 
est punishment;  that  the  old  discipline  for  heretics  ought 


210  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

to  be  put  in  force,  and  I  was  thus  furnished  with  abundant 
reason  to  bless  God  for  the  religious  liberty  of  the  country 
of  my  adoption,  else  racks  and  tortures,  would  have  been 
put  in  operation  against  me,  nor  would  these  holy  men, 
moved  by  the  spirit,  have  stopped  short  of  my  destruction. 
Yet  was  the  charge  of  heresy  never  proved  against  me. 
I  was  never  silenced  either  by  reason  or  scripture — I  had 
called  upon  men  every  where,  clergymen,  or  laymen,  to 
step  forward,  and  convict  me  of  error;  promising  imme- 
diately upon  conviction,  to  relinquish  the  obnoxious 
tenet,  whatever  it  might  chance  to  be,  and  to  adopt  that 
better  way,  which  would,  in  such  an  event,  become  lumi- 
nous before  me.  Truth,  and  gratitude,  originates  the  con- 
fession, that  in  all  circumstances,  I  have  hitherto  had  rea- 
son to  bless  the  God  of  my  life  who  hath  promised,  He 
will  be  with  me  to  the  end  of  the  world,  and  that  all  things 
shall  work  together  for  good.     Amen,  and  amen. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

I§^mary  Record  of  Events,  from  January  1775  to  October 
1809. 

Amid  the  haunts  of  memory  let  me  stray, 
As  duty,  love,  and  friendship,  point  the  way } 
With  hand  of  diligence:  and  humid  eye, 
The  faithful  record  tearfully  supply. 

Would  the  beloved  preacher  had  continued  his  narra- 
tive. The  Editor  fondly  calculating  upon  assistance  which 
she  believed  her.self  authorised  to  expect,  pledged  herself 
to  continue  the  sketch,  even  to  the  closing  scene.  Butj 
alas!  disappointed  in  her  cherished  hopes,  she  stands 
alone.  Her  health  is  broken,  her  spirits  are  depressed, 
and  she  is  advanced  in  life;  yea,  doubtless,  she  is  inade- 
quate to  the  per'^'^rmance  of  her  promise — But  she  remem- 
bers that  this  voiume  is  addressed  only  to  the  friends  of 
the  dear  departed,  and  she  mournfully  proceeds  to  its  com- 
pletion. 

Upon  December  14,  1774,  Mr.  Murray  again  visited 
Gloucester;  the  numerous  family  of  the  Sargcnts  then 
seated  in  that  place,  embraced  in  almost  all  its  branches, 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and  their  attachment  to  film, 
whom  they  believed  an  ambassador  of  the  Redeemer,  was 
proportioned  to  their  zeal.       Many  respectable  names 


LIFE   OP   REV.   JOHN   MURRAY.  Sfl 

were  added,  and  a  little  congregation  was  collected,  who 
seemed  to  have  among  them  but  one  heart,  and  one  soul. 
Like  the  primitive  Christians,  they  assembled  daily  and 
they  continued  from  house  to  house  worshipping  the  only 
true  God  their  Saviour.  On  recurrence  to  the  journal  of 
the  preacher  we  find  a  memorandum,  written  upon  his 
second  visit  to  Gloucester,  which  is  thus  worded:  *  Here 
my  God  grants  me  rest  from  my  toils,  here  I  have  a  taste 
of  heaven.  The  new  song  is  sung  here,  and  worthy  is 
THE  Lamb  constantly  dwells  upon  their  tongues.'  Mr, 
Chandler's  meeting-house  was  not  closed  against  the  pro- 
mulgator of  glad  tidings,  until  some  time  in  January,  1775, 
upon  the  20th  of  which  month  he  made  a  second  journey  to 
Newburyport  and  Portsmouth.  Those  who  had  adhered 
to  him  in  those  towns,  having  ascertained  that  he  abso- 
lutely believed  the  final  restitution  of  all  things,  united 
with  the  many  in  the  most  unqualified  censure.  But  the 
friends  he  had  lost,  particularly  in  Portsmouth,  were  re- 
placed by  many  others,  among  whom  we  find  the  names 
of  Judge,  and  Sheriff  Parker,  Atkinson,  Wentworth,  Aus- 
tin, Warner,  Sheafe,  Langdon,  Sewall,  Brackett,  Whip- 
ple, Thompson,  Turner,  Gardner,  Massey,  Jackson,  &c. 
&c.  The  heaven-instructed  preacher  continued  many 
years  an  occasional  visitor  in  Portsmouth,  where  his  la- 
bors were  greatly  blessed,  and  when  other  pulpits  were 
closed  against  him  in  that  metropolis,  the  doors  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  were  open  for  his  reception.  But  after 
he  had  repeatedly  lectured  in  that  church,  a  few  persons 
appeared  in  opposition,  and  we  have  this  moment  under 
our  eye,  an  original  writing,  addressed  to  the  promulgator 
upon  this  occasion;  we  transcribe  a  verbatim  copy: 
*  Whereas  it  is  represented  that  some  objections  have  been 
made  by  one,  or  more  persons,  belonging  to  the  Church  call- 
ed Queens  Chapel,  against  the  doors  thereof  being  opened 
for  the  admission  of  Mr.  John  Murray  to  preach  the  gos- 
pel; Wherefore,  we  the  subscribers,  proprietors,  and 
parishioners  of  the  Church  aforesaid,  having  taken  the  same 
into  consideration — Do  (in  order  to  remove  any  difiiculties 
that  might  arise  in  that  gentleman's  breast  in  consequence 
of  such  objections)  hereby  fully  declare  our  free  will,  and 
consent,  that  the  said  Church  be  opened  at  all  times, 
whenever  it  may  be  convenient  for  him  to  perform  divine 
service  in  town,  more  especially  during  his  present  stay; 
and,  instead  of  deeming  it  an  indulgence  granted  him,  vre 
shall,  on  the  contrary,  acknowledge  it  a  favor  conferred 
on  us,  in  his  acceptance  of  this  invitation.  Portsmouth, 
May  24,  1781.' — Signed  by  twenty-four  of  the  leading 


212  I-IFE    OP   REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

members  of  the  Church  in  Portsmouth.  Our  preacher 
was  also  made  the  instrument  of  irradiating  the  mind  of 
an  exemplary  philanthropist,  Mr.  Noah  Parker;  now  in 
regions  of  blessedness,  who  was  so  deeply  penetrated,  as 
to  present  himself  a  servant  of  the  living  God,  a  voluntary 
preacher  of  the  Gospel.  A  convenient  house  was  raised 
for  his  use,  by  the  brethren  in  Portsmouth,  and  he  contin  • 
ued,  until  his  departure  out  of  time,  a  zealous  and  able 
minister  of  the  Reconciliation. 

Attached  to  the  Gloucesterians,  Mr.  Murray  once  mor«! 
believed  he  had  found  a  permanent  residence;  yet,  al- 
though he  consented  to  consider  that  place  as  his  home; 
he  did  not  relinquish  the  persuasion  that  his  commission 
obliged  him  to  go  forth  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  where- 
ever,  and  whenever  the  providence  of  God  might  seem  to 
direct  him.  The  inveteracy  of  his  enemies  in  the  town  of 
Gloucester,  was  in  full  proportion  to  the  attachment  of 
his  friends,  and  every  means  of  annoyance  was  in  requisi- 
tion. The  spirit  of  liberty  mounted  very  high  in  Glou- 
cester, and  for  the  purpose  of  influencing  the  ignorant, 
the  teacher  was  proclaimed  a  Papist,  sent  out  by  Lord 
North,  to  aid  the  purpose  of  an  obnoxious  ministry; 
anathemas,  and  sometimes  stones,  followed  his  steps  as 
he  passed  the  streets;  a  town-meeting  was  called,  the  aim 
of  which  (lest  the  friends  of  the  promulgator  should  take 
the  alarm)  was  most  illegally  shrouded  in  silence,  and  a 
vote  was  thus  surreptitiously  obtained,  that  he  shoulu 
forthwith  depart  from  the  borders  of  Gloucester;  of  this 
vote  he  was  advertised  by  an  officer — let  us  not  say  of 
justice.  Still,  however,  he  continued  witnessing  both  to 
small  and  great,  what  Moses  and  the  prophets  had  testi- 
fied concerning  Jesus  of  Nazereth,  that  he  died  for  our 
sins,  and  arose  again  for  our  justification.  The  most  un- 
warrantable means  were  employed,  old  slanders  were  re- 
suscitated, and  new  accusations  brought  forward;  tales 
which  had  been  repeatedly  confuted,  were  new  garbed, 
and  sent  abroad,  swelling  the  bosom  of  integrity  with  un- 
utterable anguish.  Among  countless  other  calumnies 
which  were  afloat,  a  story  was  embellished,  and  published 
originally  propagated  by  one  Maxwell,  wherein  the 
preacher,  the  lover  of  the  Redeemer,  is  represented  as 
treating  the  Eucharist  in  a  ludicrous  manner !  although 
the  gentleman — Mr,  afterwards  General  Greene,  at  whose 
house,  and  in  whose  presence,  the  irreverent  profanation 

was  said  to  have  taken  place — had  written  to  Doctor  S 

and  others,  completely  exonerating  the  accused.  Mr. 
Murray's  sentiments  upon  the  sacred  and  consolatory  or- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    J»HN    MURRAY.  ^13 

dinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  are  explained  and  expati- 
ted  upon,  in  his  Letters  and  Sketches  of  Sermons,  to 
which  the  interested  reader  is  referred.  It  cannot  be  de- 
nied, that  characters  generally  respectable  combined  to 
stimulate  the  mob  to  the  most  desperate  measures,  but 
every  unwarrantable  project  was  frustrated.  The  doors 
of  the  meeting-house  being  now  closed,  the  parlors  of  re- 
spectable friends  became  the  places  of  assembling,  until 
at  length  a  spacious  room  was  consecrated  for  that  pur- 

Eose.  Letters  of  excommunication  were  now  addressed, 
y  the  established  Minister,  to  seventeen  of  the  most  re- 
spectable Church  members,  and  this,  for  their  attachment 
to  the  Gospel  of  God  our  Saviour.  While  others,  avail- 
ing themselves  of  a  Provincial  Law,  endeavored  to  expel 
the  Ambassador  of  their  God,  as  a  vagrant.  To  meet, 
and  obviate  which  difficulty,  the  kind  friend  under  whose 
especial  patronage  he  then  was,  presented  him  with  a 
deed  of  gifts  which  constituted  him  a  freeholder  in  Glou- 
cester. The  months  of  March  and  April,  in  this  year, 
were,  by  the  preacher,  devoted  to  visiting  his  friends  in 
Boston,  and  various  parts  of  Rhode  Island,  and  toward 
the  close  of  April,  he  returned  to  his  highly  favored  home, 
rejoicing  that  the  zeal,  and  attachment  of  the  Glouces- 
terians,  were  nothing  diminished,  and  their  meetings  for 
scriptural  investigations  were  joyfully  resumed.  In  the 
month  of  May,  1775,  the  leading  officers  of  the  Rho|de  Is- 
land Brigade,  assembled  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston, 
despatched  a  respectable  messenger,  with  a  letter,  solicit- 
ing the  attendance  of  the  promulgator,  as  chaplain  to  their 
detachment  of  the  Revolutionary  Army.  We  transcribe 
a  verbatim  copy  of  this  letter. 

'  Dear  Sir: 

'  Amidst  that  concurrence  of  events  which  the  great  Cre- 
ator in  infinite  wisdom  directs,  for  the  accomplishment  of 
his  own  purposes,  a  British  armament  hath  set  hostile 
foot  upon  American  ground.  What  the  design  of  the  Al- 
mighty may  be,  we  cannot  at  present  absolutely  determine. 
One  thing  we  know,  our  cause  is  jwsf,  and  also  that  the 
Parent  of  the  universe  can  do  no  wrong.  An  army  hath 
been  raised  in  this  Colony,  which  is  now  stationed  upon 
Jamaica  Plains  in  Roxbury,  and  that  this  army  may  do 
honor  to  themselves,  and  the  cause  in  which  they  are  em- 
barked, it  is  requisite  that  propriety  of  manners,  regularity 
of  conduct,  and  a  due  reliance  upon  the  Almighty  controll- 
er of  events,  should  be  cultivated  and  enforced.     The  most 


214  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

probable  human  means  we  can  devise  to  effect  an  object 
so  ardently  to  be  desired,  consist  in  a  decent,  sincere,  and 
devout  attendance,  at  opportune  seasons,  upon  divine 
worship.  We  have,  therefore,  selected  you  as  a  Chaplain 
to  our  Brigade,  well  convinced  that  your  extensive  benev- 
olence, and  abilities,  will  justify  our  choice.  We  cannot 
without  doing  violence  to  the  opinion  we  have  formed  of 
your  character,  doubt  of  your  ready  compliance  with  our 
united  request.  The  support  you  will  receive  shall  exact- 
lyy  correspond  with  your  feelings,  and  your  wishes.  We 
are,  dear  sir.  Sec.  &.c.  &c.  .^ 

Signed  in  behalf  of  the  Brigade.  \ . 

J.  N.  VARNUM. 
May  24,  1775. 

A  persuasion  that  he  could  be  of  more  use  in  the  army, 
than  elsewhere,  would  not  allow  the  preacher  to  balance, 
and,  accordingly  resigning  the  calm  recess  of  friendship, 
he  presented  himself  in  the  American  camp,  and  '  armed 
with  the  sword  of  Jesse's  youthful  son,'  he  was  indeed 
most  ardently  engaged.  The  scene,  however,  was  not 
calculated  to  give  pleasure  to  a  philanthropist.  In  a  mem- 
orandum of  this  date,  he  thus  expresses  himself;  '  My 
troubles  have  recommenced  ;  I  am  now  indeed  in  the  world 
and  shall  doubtless  encounter  tribulation  ;  I  am  associated 
with  an  ungovernable  set  of  people.  It  is  true,  the  officers 
are  gentlemen,  and  call  into  action  every  effort  to  strength- 
en my  hands  ;  but  the  soldiers — ^alas !  the  fact  is,  I  am 
not  in  my  own  company.'  Upon  the  3d  of  July,  the  chap- 
lain accompanied  a  detachment  of  the  Brigade,  to  com- 
pliment General  Washington,  upon  his  arrival  to  take  the 
supreme  command  of  the  army  at  Cambridge  ;  and  he 
was  received  by  the  immortal  chief,  with  that  urbanity 
which  he  so  well  knew  to  practise.  The  subject  of  the 
first  sermon,  preached  on  sabbath  morning  at  the  Camp, 
Jamaica  Plains,  Psalm  xliv,  1,  2,  3,  and  upon  the 
evening  of  the  same  day,  the  last  verse  of  the  same  Psalm. 
The  preacher  was  engaged  occasionally  at  Jamaica  Plains, 
and  on  Prospect  Hill.  Every  morning  at  7  o'clock  he 
met  the  several  regiments  upon  the  parade  ;  gradually  the 
habits  of  swearing,  and  the  rough  manners  of  the  soldiery,  • 
yielded  to  the  christianized  eloquence  of  their  Chaplain, 
and  his  success  in  the  army  was  indeed  most  wonderful. 
His  benevolence,  and  benignity  while  there,  is  storied  by 
many  a  tongue  j  we  indulge  ourselves  by  selecting  an  in- 
stance, which  did  not  reach  our  ears,  until  since  his 
decease.      A  detachment  of  the  army  were  ordered  to 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  215 

march,  a  river  was  to  be  forded  ;  a  poor  soldier  in  years, 
and  struggling  with  sickness,  was  tottering  under  his  bur- 
den :  the  preacher  instantly  accoutred  himself  with  the 
knapsack,  arms,  and  cartouch  box,  and,  thus  arrayed,  pro- 
ceeded on,  while  the  sufferer  disencumbered  passed  lightly 
over.  The  writer  of  this  sketch,  could  furnish  a  series 
of  similar  anecdotes  ;  often,  when  his  finances  have  been 
at  the  lowest  ebbj  and  the  prodigious  expense  of  living 
had  produced  distressing  embarrassments,  she  has  seen 
him  extend  to  the  necessitous,  an  extricating  hand,  and 
he  not  only  indulged,  and  cherished,  but  invariably  stimu- 
lated every  charitable  purpose  of  her  soul. 

General  Washington,  honored  the  preacher  with  marked 
and  uniform  attention  ;  the  Chaplains  of  the  army  united 
in  petitioning  the  Chief,  for  the  removal  of  the  promulga- 
tor of  glad  tidings  ;  the  answer  was  handed  them,  in  the 
general  orders  of  the  ensuing  day,  which  appointed  Mr. , 
John  Murray,  Chaplain  of  the  three  Rhode  Island  Regi- 
ments, with  a  command  from  his  Excellency,  George 
Washington,  that  he  should  be  respected  accordingly. 
Mr.  Murray's  commission  was  made  out,  and  delivered  to 
him,  when  enclosing  it  in  a  respectfully  polite  letter  of 
thanks,  he  returned  it  to  the  noble  minded  Chief,  earnest- 
ly requesting  permission  to  continue  in  the  army,  as  a 
volunteer.  General  Washington,  after  perusing,  folded 
the  paper  and,  observed :  *  Mr  Murray  is  a  young  man 
now  ;  he  will  live  to  be  old,  and  repentance  will  be  the 
companion  of  his  age.'  The  preacher  lived  to  see  this 
prediction  fulfilled.  Had  he  embraced  the  rich  opportu- 
nity then  presented  he  might  have  continued  in  the  family 
of  General  Greene  whose  friendship  was  unbroken,  and 
where  his  abode  was  hailed  as  a  distinguishing  favor,  his 
daily  ratio  would  have  augmented  for  his  emolument,  his 
salary  would  have  accumulated,  he  would  have  retired 
upon  half  pay,  or  commutation,  and  during  the  years  of 
languor,  and  decrepitude,  he  might  have  commanded  his 
own  carriage,  and  servants  ;  but  the  reader  must  have 
seen,  that  the  preacher  was  accustomed  to  withdraw  from 
the  approaches  of  affluence. 

Mr.  Murray  continued  in  the  army  so  long  as  his  health 
would  permit,  but  being  violently  seized  by  an  indisposi- 
tion, which  terminated  in  a  billious  fever  that  precipitated 
him  to  the  gates  of  the  grave,  he  was,  by  the  Physician  of 
the  Brigade,  conducted  to  Gloucester :  and  no  sooner  was 
his  health  re-established,  than  his  strongest  feelings  were 
powerfully  excited,  by  the  suflTerings  of  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  want  in  that  town.    War  of  any  description, 


^16  I«IFE   OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAT. 

is  particularly  oppressive  to  its  inhabitants,  seated  upon 
the  margin  of  the  ocean,  their  subsistence  is  principally 
derived  from  the  deep.  The  rich  sources  of  Commerce, 
thrown  open  by  the  genial  hand  of  peace,  became,  to  the 
hardy,  and  enterprizing  Gloucesterian,  legitimate  objects 
of  pursuit;  and  his  uniform,  and  industrious  efforts,  are 
crow^ned  by  competency.  But  whatever  obstructs  his  ad- 
venturous plans,  inevitably  involves  him  in  distress,  and 
the  period  to  which  we  advert  was,  perhaps,  the  most 
gloomy  of  any  during  the  revolutionary  war.  It  had  con- 
tinued long  enough  to  try  without  familiarizing  or  indu- 
rating the  feelings,  and  hope  had  almost  become  the  vic- 
tim of  despair.  The  humane  preacher  surveyed  those 
multiplied  children  of  penury^and  he  surveyed  them  with 
a  philanthropic  eye;  nor  was  this  all — commencing  a 
journey  in  the  depth  of  a  severe  winter,  he  addressed  the 
general  officers  in  the  American  army,  beginning  with 
their  revered  Chief,  and  extending  his  application,  to  ma- 
ny other  gentlemen,  whose  confidence  and  whose  friendship 
he  enjoyed.  He  adressed  to  those  distinguished  individ- 
uals, the  voice  of  supplication,  and  so  successful  was  his 
embassy,  that  he  returned  to  Gloucester  with  a  large  sum  of 
money  which  he  converted  into  rice,  meal,  and  molasses, 
rendering  a  scrupulous  account  to  the  selectmen,  and  pray- 
ing them  to  recommend  such  persons,  as  were  proper  ob- 
jects of  this  providential  bounty;  the  whole  Was  punctually 
distributed,  and  many  sufferers  most  essentially  relieved. 
Yeton  the  27th  day  of  February,  in  the  succeeding  year, 
1777,  we  find  this  same  feeling  solicitor,  summoned  from 
the  house  of  a  friend,  Mr.  Winthrop  Sargent,  where  he 
was  suffering  from  indisposition,  and  arraigned  at  the  bar, 
of  the  then  committee  of  safety,  for  the  town,  of  Glouces- 
ter. Some  gentleman  councelled  him  to  disregard  the  sum- 
mons, especially  as  the  whole  committee  were  not  assem- 
bled, and  those  who  were  collected,  were  decidedly  his  in- 
veterate enemies, — but  he  answered,  that  possessing  a 
consciousness  of  innocence,  he  could  not  fear  the  face  of 
man.  The  following  account  of  the  extraordinary  pro- 
ceeding which  ensued,  is  from  the  minutes  of  a  gentle- 
man who  was  an  ear  witness  of  the  scene  the  chairman 
of  the  committee  opened  the  business.  '  We  have  sent 
for  you,  to  know  who  you  are,  and  from  whence  you 
came  ?  '  '  Your  question  is  rather  difficult,  sir,  I  hardly 
know  how  to  answer  you,  do  you  mean  where  did  I  come 
from  last? '  '  I  say  where  did  you  come  from.'  '  I  have 
been  in  various  places  in  this  country  sir.  '  I  say  where 
did  you  come  from  when  you  came  into  this  country.*" 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  217 

From  England.'    From  what  part  of  England? '     *Lon- 
don  *     '  What  business  had  you  to  come  to  this  country.? ' 
"^  Business,  sir !  I  felt  disposed  to  come,  and  came — '  *  Wnat 
business  have  you  iu  this  town  ?'     '  The  same  as  I  have  in 
every  town  where  I  happen  to  sojourn.'     Here  one  of  the 
committee,  arose,  and  requesting  leave  to  speak,  which  was 
granted,  said:    '  I  conceive  we  have  sent  for  this  man  to 
know  from  whence  he  came,  who  he  is,  and  what  business 
he  has  here;  this  is  a  time  of  difficulty,  we  are  at  variance 
with  England,  he  calls  himself  an  Englishman,  we  do  not 
know  what  he  is.     He  associates  with  a  great  many,  whom 
Vie  look  upon  as  enemies  to  this  country,  and  they  go  to  hear 
him  converse — I  think — I  cannot  call  it  preaching'     Here 
Mr.  Murray  would  have  spoken,  but  he  was  imperiously, 
not  to  say  impudently  commanded  to  be  silent,  and  his  ac- 
cuser proceeded,  until  at  length  the  chairman  again  re- 
sumed :  '  Where  did  you  come  from  ?    We  want  to  know 
where  you  were  born,  and  brought  up?'     Mr,  Murray  an- 
swered, '  Gentlemen,  it  is  not  my  wish  to  give  you  unne- 
cessary trouble.     I  was  born  in  England,  shortly  after  I 
had  attained  my  eleventh  year,  I  accompanied  my  father 
to  Ireland,  where  I  continued  many  years  under  his  care; 
when  I  was  between  19  and  20,  I  returned  to  England, 
where  I  abode,  living  generally  in  London,  until  I  quitted 
it  for  this  country.     Since  I  came  into  this  country,  my 
residence  has  been  in  Maryland,  Pennsylvania,  the  Jer- 
seys, New- York,  Connecticut,  Rhode  Island,  Massachu- 
setts, and  New  Hampshire.'     '  What  did  you  come  into 
this  country  for?'     '  In  pursuit  of  retirement,  but  concur- 
rent circumstances  rendered  me  a  preacher.'     *  Have  you 
any  credentials?'     *  Yes  sir.'     '  Show  them.'     I  have  none 
present,  there  are  many  in  this  town  who  have  heard  nie, 
and  received  my  testimony;  they  are  my  credentials.  *Ay, 
that  is  nothing — ^you  see  he  has  no  authority.     How  could 
you  think  of  preaching  without  authority?'     *  When  I 
came  into  this  country  there  was  no  war,  I  believed  it  to 
be  a  land  of  civil,  and  religious  liberty — every  charter,  and 
every  law  made  among  yourselves,  breathed  a  spirit  of 
toleration,  I  felt  assured  I  should  be  allowed  liberty  of  con- 
science; my  intentions  were  upright;  a  conviction   that 
God  had  ordained  me  to  proclaim  the  gospel,  has  been  pow- 
erfully impressed  upon  my  mind,  and  I  am  still  convinced, 
that  I  ought  to  preach  the  Gospel.'     '  How  long  do  you 
intend  to  stay  in  this  town  ?'     '  I  do  not  precisely  know^ 
but  certainly  until  the  weather  and  roads  shall  be  good  ' 
'  The  weather  will  do,  and  it  is  pretty  good  travelling  now  ' 
(At  this  time  the  winter  having  been  extremely  severe,  the 
19 


318  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAT. 

roads  were  nearly  impassable.)  *  I  do  not  believe  I  shall 
quit  Gloucester  until  April,  about  that  time  I  expect  to 
commence  a  journey  to  Philadelphia.'  '  The  town  is  very 
uneasy  at  your  continuance  here,  and  we  are  a  committee 
of  safety.  We  are  to  take  up  all  strangers,  and  send  them 
out  of  town.'  '  Sir,  I  have  already  been  warned  out  of 
town,  and  if  you  be  apprehensive  of  my  becoming  a  charge, 
I  can  procure  bonds.'  One  of  the  committee  addressed 
the  chair  for  liberty  to  speak,  which  having  obtained,  he 
said:  'Your  stay  in  this  town,  is  cause  of  uneasiness  to 
many;  you  hurt  the  morals  of  the  people,  and  a  great  ma- 
ny who  hear  you  are  enemies  to  the  country.'  Mr.  Mur- 
ray responded — '  Those  who  hear  me,  and  believe  what  I 
deliver,  can  never  be  injured  in  their  morals.'  '  I  do  not 
believe  you.'  '  You  have  not  heard  all  I  have  said  in  de- 
fence of  my  persuasion.'  '  I  have  heard  enough,  I  neither 
believe,  nor  like  it.^  '  Well,  sir,  there  is  no  act  of  assem- 
bly to  compel  you  to  hear;  but  you  should  remember  your 
neighbor  is  entitled  to  equal  liberty  with  yourself.'  '  You 
deliver  very  erroneous  principles.'  '  My  principles  are  all 
to  be  found  in  the  sacred  records  of  divine  truth.'  'Ay, 
so  you  say.'  '  I  was  not  apprized  that  I  was  cited  before 
a  spiritual  court.'  Mr.  Murray  then  addressed  the  chair 
— '  Sir,  this  gentleman  asserts  that  I  associate  with  a  great 
many  eneinies  of  this  country.  I  demand  that  they  be 
pointed  out.  If  I  associate  with  an  individual  of  this  des- 
cription, it  is  unknown  to  me.'  A  gentleman  at  the  chair- 
man's elbow  observed:  *  Mr,  chairman,  I  think  we  have 
no  business  to  answer  this  man  a  single  question :  we  did 
not  send  for  him  to  answer  his  questions,  but  to  ask  ques- 
tions of  him.'  The  chairman  then  repeated,  that  the  town 
was  very  uneasy,  and  advised  Mr.  Murray  to  depart  to 
prevent  further  trouble:  to  which  he  answered.  '  Sir,  I 
nave  been  nearly  seven  years  in  this  country;  perhaps  no 
one  has  a  more  extensive  acquaintance;  I  have  many 
friends,  and  many  enemies.  I  feel  that  I  am  a  friend  to 
all  mankind,  and  I  am  happy  that  no  circumstance  of  my 
life  can  prove  the  contrary.  I  was  invited  to  this  town, 
and  1  have  been  cordially  received,  but  it  seems  I  am  sus- 
pected, because  I  associate  with  many  who  are  enemies  to 
this  country.  I  associate  with  Captain  W.  S. —  pray  is  he 
an  enemy?  During  my  residence  in  this  place.  I  have 
never  heard  a  syllable  uttered,  which  this  committee  ought 
to  consider  as  reprehensible.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  a 
single  individual  who  appears  to  be  an  enemy  to  this  coun- 
try :  two  or  three  worthy  characters  I  know,  who  do  not 
perfectly  approve  every  measure  which  has  been  adopted. 


LIFE    or    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  3i# 

I  have  recently  endeavored  to  recollect  how  many  gentle- 
men, the  circle  of  my  connexions  from  Maryland  to  New 
Hampshire  contained,,  who  were  suspected  of  being  un- 
friendly to  the  present  order  of  things,  and  I  could  number 
but  five  persons,  not  an  individual  of  whom  has  ever  been 
proved  inimical  to  American  prosperity^  For  myself,  1 
rejoice  in  the  reflection,  that  i  nm  a  staunch  friend  to  lib- 
erty, genuine  liberty.  It  is  well  known  that  I  have  labor- 
ed to  promote  the  cause  of  this  country,  and  I  rejoice  that 
I  have  not  labored  in  vain.  I  am  so  well  known,  and  I 
have  the  happiness  to  be  so  well  respected,  that  his  Ex- 
cellency, General  Washington,  appointed  me  to  officiate 
as  chaplain  to  several  regiments.  1  should  have  imagined 
this  fact  would  have  been  sufficient  credentials  here. 
I  have  injured  no  person  in  this  town.  I  am  invited  to 
meet  my  friends,  in  the  house  of  a  friend,  where  they 
desire  me  to  read  the  Bible,  to  comment  thereon,  and 
to  unite  with  them  in  solemn  prayer  to  Almighty  God,  for 
the  continuance  of  his  mercies  to  us,  as  a  people,  and 
not  unto  us  only,  but  to  a  once  k>stj  and  now  redeemed 
world.'  A  member  of  the  committee  observed,  that» 
they  could  not  be  answerable  for  any  thing  that  might  be 
done  by  a  mob,  and,  it  was  not  in  their  power  to  prevent 
it,  if  he  did  not,  without  delay,  leave  the  town.  Mr. 
Murray  laying  his  spread  hand  upon  his  breast  answer- 
ed: '  Sir,  I  feci  such  a  consciousness  of  innocence  here, 
that  I  know  not  what  it  is  to  fear.  It  is  with  perfect 
composure  that  I  commit  myself  to  God,  and  the  laws  of 
this  Commonwealth.  If  I  have  broken  any  law,  let  me 
be  punished  by  law;  but  I  bless  God  I  am  not  a  lawless 
person.  Sir,  I  am  a  stranger  to  fear,  I  have  committed 
no  action  worthy  of  punishment.  Sir,  I  know  not  what  it 
is  to  fear.  No  man  can  have  any  power  over  me,  except 
it  be  given  to  him  from  above;  no  injury  can  be  done  me, 
but  by  the  permission  of  my  God.  But  I  am  not  afraid; 
the  worst  this  mob  can  do,  is  to  deprive  me  of  a  life,  which 
I  have  been  many  years  quite  willing  to  resign.  Sir,  I 
commit  myself  and  my  cause  to  the  Ruler  of  Heaven  and 
of  Earth.'  One  gentleman  observed,  that  the  rule  upon 
Earth  was  delegated  to  them,  or  words  to  that  effect — 
when  Mr.  Murray  replied :  '  Sir,  I  con.ceive  the  God  of 
Heaven  is  the  only  Ruler  in  Heaven  above,  and  in  Earth 
beneath' — and,  addressing  the  chair,  he  added:  'Sir,  I, 
have  answered  every  question  you  have  thought  proper 
to  ask — and  as  I  find  it  difficult  to  speak,  I  am  so  very  ill, 
I  will  take  leave  to  wish  you  a  good  evening.  Gentlemen 
good  night'— when,  without  interruption  he  departed. 


220  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHK    MURRAY. 

Alas!  alas!  how  tyrannical  is  the  dominion  of  prejti4 
dice !  in  this  instance  it  precipitated  men,  respectable  men, 
who  in  the  common  occurrences  of  life,  had  uniformly 
preserved  a  decent  reputation,  upon  a  procedure  the  most 
absurd  and  unwarrantable.  Interrogations  so  unceremo- 
niously made  to  a  person,  who,  as  the  almoner  of  his  God, 
had  the  preceding  year,  fed  large  numbers  of  their  almost* 
famished  poor,  who  had  never  committed  any  act  of 
violence,  or  discovered  the  smallest  inclination  to  aid  the 
enemies  of  the  new  world,  was,  as  we  trust,  a  singular 
outrage.  But  Mr.  Murray  was  a  Christian,  and  after  the 
way  that  they  called  heresy,  so  Avorshipped  he  the  God  of 
his  fathers;  he  could  not  therefore  be  allowed  to  merit 
either  confidence  or  gratitude. 

On  the  Christmas  day  of  1780,  Mr.  Murray  first  preach- 
ed in  a  small  neat  building,  erected  for  his  use,  by  the- 
Gloucesterians.  His  adherents,  associated  for  public 
worship,  had,  as  they  believed,  organized  themselves,  and 
solemnly  covenanting  together,  they  conceived  themselves 
an  INDEPENDENT  CHURCH  of  Chrtst.  A  Writing  was 
prepared,  signed  by  every  individual  of  the  congregation, 
in  which,  after  dilating  upon  the  fundamental  principles 
of  the  faith  they  had  embraced,  they  professed  to  acknowl- 
edge, as  Christians,  no  Master  but  Jesus  Christ,  receiving 
as  their  guide  in  spiritual  matters,  only  the  word  and 
spirit  of  the  Redeemer;  but  they  pledged  themselves  to 
the  community  at  large,  and  to  each  other,  to  yield  obedi- 
ence to  every  ordinance  of  man,  to  be  peaceable  and  obedi- 
ent subjects  to  the  powers  ordained  of  God,  in  all  civil 
cases.  But  as  subjects  of  that  King,  whose  kingdom  is 
not  of  this  world;  they  denied  the  right  of  any  human 
authority  to  make  laws  for  the  regulation  or  their  conscien- 
ces; they  rejoiced  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  had 
made  them  free,  and  they  determined  no  more  to  be 
entangled  by  any  yoke  of  bondage.  They  professed  a 
disposition  to  live  peaceably  with  all  men,  to  avoid  unne- 
cessary disputation ;  and,  should  they  be  reviled,  to  en- 
deavor in  patience  to  possess  their  souls.  We  make 
from  this  solemn  instrument  the  following  extract. 

'  As  an  INDEPENDENT  CHURCH  OF  Christ  thus  bouud 
together  by  the  cords  of  his  love,  and  meeting  together  in 
His  name,  we  mutually  agree  to  receive  as  oui'  Minister 
that  is,  our  servant,  sent  to  labor  amongst  us,  in  the  work 
of  the  Gospel,  by  the  great  Lord  of  the  Yineyard,  our 
friend  and  brother,  John  Murray.  This  we  do,  from  a 
full  conviction,  that  the  same  God,  who  sent  the  first 
preachers  of  Jesus  Christ,  sent  him;  and  that  the  same 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  it$$ 

Gospel  they  preached  we  have  from  time  to  time  received 
from  him.  Thus,  believing  him  a  Minister  of  the  New 
Testament,  constantly  declaring  the  whole  counsel  of 
God,  proclaiming  the  same  divine  truth  that  all  God's 
holy  prophets  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  have  de- 
clared; we  cordially  receive  him  as  a  messenger  from 
God.  And  as  it  hath  pleased  God  to  open  a  great  and 
effectual  door,  for  the  preaching  of  His  Gospel,  by  this 
His  servant,  in  sundry  parts  of  this  great  continent;  when- 
ever it  shall  please  his  and  our  divine  Master,  to  call  him 
to  preach  the  everlasting  Gospel  elsewhere,  we  will  wish 
him  God  speed;  and  pray  that  the  good  will  of  Him  who 
dwelt  in  the  bush,  may  accompany  him,  and  make  his 
way  clear  before  him.' 

Thus  we  repeat,  the  little  congregation  in  Gloucester 
considered  themselves  an  independent  church  of 
Christ.  They  were  conscious  that  they  had,  in  every 
instance,  demeaned  themselves  as  good  citizens,  and  that 
their  utmost  efforts  had  uniformly  been  embodied,  for  the 
advancement  of  the  public  weal;  they  felt  themselves  de- 
servedly invested  with  the  privileges  and  immunities  of 
free  citizens,  entitled  to  those  liberties,  with  which  God 
and  nature  had  endowed  them,  and  which  they  believed 
to  be  secured  to  them  by  a  constitution  of  government, 
happily  established  by  the  people  of  this  commonwealth. 
Dissenting  essentially  from  the  doctrines  taught  by  the 
established  minister,  they  had  borne  an  early  testimony 
against  his  settlement :  and  they  humbly  hoped  it  would  be 
sufficient  for  them  to  believe  the  holy  scriptures,  and 
to  adopt  the  pure  system  of  morals  contained  therein,  as 
the  rule  of  their  conduct,  and  the  man  of  their  coun- 
sel. They  rejoiced  in  the  liberty  of  free  inquiry,  guar- 
anteed by  the  strong  arm  of  government;  and  they  felic- 
itated themselves,  that  they  had  been  ushered  into  being  at 
a  time,  when  that  fearful  period  had  gone  by,  which  arming 
the  Religionists  with  the  potent  vengeance  of  civil  authori- 
ty, wrapped  the  whole  world  in  a  cloud  of  impenetrable 
darkness,  debilitated  the  human  intellect,  by  closing  the 
door  of  free  inquiry,  and  gave  birth  to  eight  hundred  years 
of  ignorance,  and  barbarism,  unequalled  by  any  preceding 
era;  whence  arose  an  awful  chasm  in  the  history  of  the 
world  and  men  ceased  to  think  because  thinking  was  a 
crime.  The  Gloucesterians  adopted  the  idea  of  a  respecta- 
ble writer,  who  considered  Ordination  as  nothing  more 
than  the  solemn  putting  a  man  into  his  place,  and  office 
in  the  Church,  a  right  to  which  he  had  obtained  by  previ- 
ous election,  which,  together  with  his  voluntary  acceptance 


222  LIFE,    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

of  such  election,  became  a  legitimate  base,  upon  which 
was  founded  the  relationship  between  pastor  and  flock. 
Thus,  as  the  word  ordAj^n  signifies  no  more  than  to  ap- 
point, they  conceived  that  the  election,  and  not  the  laying 
on  of  hands,  completed  the  ordination.  Reposing  upon 
tlie  second  and  third  article  in  the  declaration  of  rights, 
the  Gloucesterians  exultingly  said:  'No  subject  shall  be 
hurt,  molested,  or  restrained  in  his  person,  liberty,  or  es- 
tate, for  worshipping  God  in  the  manner  and  season  most 
agreeable  to  the  dictates  of  his  own  conscience;  or  for  his 
religious  profession  or  sentiments,  provided  he  doth  not 
disturb  the  public  peace,  or  obstruct  others  in  their  reli- 
gious worship.  All  religious  societies  shall,  at  all  times, 
have  the  exclusive  right  of  electing  their  public  teachers, 
and  of  contracting  with  them  for  their  support  and  main- 
tenance. And  all  monies  paid  by  the  subject  to  the  support 
of  public  worship,  shall,  if  he  require  it,  be  uniformly  ap- 
plied to  the  support  of  the  public  teacher  or  teachers  of  his 
own  religious  slct  or  denomination,  provided  there  be  any 
071  whose  instruction  he  attends.''  But  while  the  Glouces- 
terians were  confidingly  singing  a  requiem  to  their  cares, 
they  beheld,  to  their  great  astonishment,  and  no  small 
dismay,  their  goods  seized  by  an  officer,  and  sold  at  auc- 
tion, for  the  purpose  of  answering  the  demands  of  the  es- 
tablished minister.  Articles  of  plate  from  one,  English 
goods  from  another,  and,  from  a  third,  the  anchor  of  a 
vessel  on  the  point  of  sailing. 

It  was,  as  we  believe,  in  the  autumn  of  1782,  that  this 
act  of  violence  took  place.  An  action  was  instituted  by 
the  independent  church  of  Christ  in  Gloucester.  Mr. 
Murray  was  urged  to  allow  the  prosecution  to  proceed  in 
his  name.  His  reluctance  to  this  step  was  decided  and 
affecting.  He  had  passed  through  the  country  without 
even  allowing  or  accepting  contributions;  and,  to  be  con- 
sidered a  prosecutor  for  monies,  said  to  be  due  to  him, 
for  preaching  the  gospel  which  he  had  determined  to  pro- 
mulgate/ree  as  the  light  of  heaven!  the  very  idea  was  a 
stab  to  his  long  cherished  feelings;  it  appeared  to  him 
like  prostrating  the  integrity  of  his  character,  and  strip- 
ping him  of  those  honors,  which  he  had  fondly  hoped 
would  remain  forever  unshorn.  The  situation  of  his 
mind,  upon  this  occasion,  may  be  gathered  from  two  ex- 
tracts of  letters,  addressed  to  him  by  a  respetcable  gentle- 
man :  '  You  know  the  inducement  I  had  to  engage  in  this 
cause  was  to  be  emancipated  from  the  shackles  of  a  ponti- 
ficate !  and  my  aversion  was  ever  determined,  from  having 
the  suit  brought  in  your  name,  as  well  from  your  abhor- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  22ft 

rence  as  that  the  result,  however  favorable,  would  noc 
establish  us  upon  the  broad  base  of  genuine  freedom. 
However,  I  am  now  convinced  from  reflection,  that  our 
cause  will  be  ruined,  unless  you  assume  it.  Mr.  Hitch- 
borne  was  clear  it  ought  to  have  been  in  your  name  be- 
fore; at  our  pressing  request,  he  drew  the  last  writ.  Mr. 
Sullivan  has  declared  it  must  be  in  your  name.  Mr.  Pyn- 
chon  (allowed  on  all  hands  to  be  deeply  versed  in  the  in- 
tricacies of  the  law)  assured  a  gentleman,  he  would  war- 
rant success,  and  even  undertake  the  conducting  the  cause 
if  the  proper  use  were  made  of  your  name.  Mr  Sewall's 
opinion  is  in  unison  with  Mr.  Pynchon.  I  hate  delay  and 
indecision,  and  shall  lament  if  chicane  and  political  views 
must  prevail  over  the  purest  intentions.' 

To  this  letter  Mr.  Murray  responded,  in  terms  descrip- 
tive of  much  anguish  of  spirit,  and  his  sympathizing  friend 
immediately  replied; 

'  I  essay  not  to  communicate  the  impression  which  your 
letter  has  made  upon  me;  would  that  pen  and  paper  were 
adequate  to  express  all  that  could  be  conveyed  by  the 
tongue.  Shall  I  be  condemned  for  being  of  an  unsteady 
disposition,  or  shall  I  be  justified  in  my  change  of  senti- 
ment, from  the  variety  of  events.''  Be  it  as  it  may,  it  mat- 
ters not;  your  letter  has  produced  another  alteration  in 
my  mind;  your  conflict  between  the  resolution  you  have 
taken,  and  the  interest  of  your  friends,  which,  I  am  per- 
suaded, is  very  dear  to  you,  is  carried  on  in  your  breast  to  a 
degree  of  agony.  I  see  how  distressing  it  is  for  you,  even 
in  appearance,  to  stand  forth  and  contend  for  what  you 
have  so  nobly  held  in  sovereign  contempt.  In  this  poin^ 
of  view  it  ceases  to  b.e  a  question.  Let  the  idea  of  inter- 
est perish;  I  had  rather  a  large  part  of  mine,  dear  as  it 
is,  should  be  wrested  from  me,  than  that  you  should  sac- 
rifice any  portion  of  your  peace  or  your  honor;  therefore, 
I  entreat  you,  my  dear  sir,  do  no  violence  to  your  feel- 
ings. Thank  God,  the  truth  of  our  cause  does  not  depend 
upon  the  decision  of  a  court  of  judicature;  and  admit  the 
worst,  it  is  only  what  we  are  bidden  to  expect,  that  this 
world  is  opposed  to  the  other.  Justice,  however,  notwith- 
standing my  sympathy  for  you,  urges  me  to  repeat  that 
our  lawyers  see  no  rational  prospect  of  success,  but  from 
your  becoming  a  principal  in  the  business.  If  you  can 
bend  your  mind,  well;  take  time  to  deliberate;  delays  in 
law,  perhaps,  are  not  so  dangerous  as  in  other  affairs;  at 
any  rate  I   entreat  you  to  become  more  tranquil;  I  had 

rather  make   payment  to  parson  F than  that  you 

should  thus  suffer.* 


m^ 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 


The  preacher,  under  the  direction  of  many  importuning- 
fi'iends,  loaned  his  name,  which  step  was  to  him  a  perma- 
nent subject  of  regret.  Trials  succeeded  trials,  review 
after  review,  at  Salem,  and  at  the  supreme  judicial  court, 
held  at  Ipswich,  17S3,  1784,  and  1785. 

The  pleaders  seemed  an  invincible  phalanx,  and  the 
mind-bending  eloquence  of  the  honorable  Mr.  King  was 
indeed  a  most  potent  aid.  Men  characterized  the  oratory 
of  that  gentleman,  as  persuading  commanding,  and  like 
an  irresistible  torrent,  bearing  down  every  obstacle. 
Many  of  the  senior  advocates  seemed  so  to  feel,  and  ac- 
knowledge the  superiority  of  Mr.  King  as  to  surrender  to 
him  the  right  of  closing  causes  of  great  importance  ;  and 
a  high  law  character  declared,  that,  had  he  a  cause  de- 
pending of  the  greatest  intricacy  and  magnitude,  to  bo 
plead  before  the  first  tribunal  in  the  world,  he  would  pre- 
fer Mr.  King  as  his  advocate,  to  any  man  he  had  ever 
heard  speak.  Previous,  however,  to  the  adjudication  of' 
1785,  when  a  verdict  in  favor  of  the  plaintiffs,  by  the  suf- 
frage of  the  jury,  (exclusive  of  the  judges)  was  obtained, 
the  political  career  of  this  celebrated  character  removed 
him  from  their  counsel,  and  their  cause  was  committed  to, 
and  ably  supported  by,  Mr.  afterwards  Governor  Sullivan, 
and  Judge  Tudor.  The  late  Chief  Justice  Parsons,  and 
Mr.  Bradbury  were  counsel  for  the  defendants.  The  Glou- 
cesterians,  in  their  appeal  to  the  '  impartial  public,'  perti- 
nently observed  that  the  decision  of  the  question  agitated 
respecting  them  ultimately  involved  every  citizen  of  the 
commonwealth,  and  instantly  affected  the  several  relig- 
ious orders  of  Episcopalians,  Baptists.  Presbyterians, 
Sandemanians,  Quakers,  and  every  other  denomination 
of  Christians,  who,  in  this  state,  were  called  sectaries* 

*  The  following  extract  from  the  Modem  History  of  Universalism,  a 
work  which  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  all  who  feel  interested  in  the 
cause  of  truth,  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader. 

'  This  case  was  kept  in  court  for  a  long  time.  Trial  succeeded  trial, 
and  review  followed  review,  at  Salem  and  at  Ipswich,  in  1783,  and 
1784,  and  1785.  In  the  fall  of  the  latter  year  a  writ  of  review  was 
again  served,  but  the  final  decision  was  deferred  until  June  1786,  when 
a  verdict  was  given  in  favor  of  Mr.  Murray.  The  conduct  of  Judge 
Dana  attracted  particular  notice.  The  view  he  had  taken  of  the  case 
in  former  trials  was  unfavorable  to  the  plaintiff;  but  a  revolution  had 
passed  in  his  mind.  When  he  noticed  that  article  in  the  Constitution 
which  directs  that  monies  may  be  applied  by  each  person  to  teachers 
of  his  own  religious  sect,  he  said  the  whole  cause  depended  upon  the 
construction  of  that  clause.  He  had  before  been  of  opinion  it  meant 
teachers  of  bodies  corporate  ;  he  then  thought  otherwise  ;  as  the  Con- 
stitution was  meant  for  a  liberal  purpose,  its  construction  should  be  of 
a  most  liberal  kind ;  it  meant,  in  this  instance,  teachets  of  any  persua- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  226 

Upon  the  objection,  that  their  teacher  was  not  a  preach- 
er of  piety,  religion,  and  morality,  they  mildly  observed: 
They  were  not  convinced  that  the  question  could  be  deter- 
mined from  a  revision  of  the  motives  he  offered  as  to  the 
rewards  which  are  to  be  bestowed,  or  punishments  inflict- 
ed in  another  world  ;  they  rather  supposed  it  should  be  de- 
cided upon  the  evidence  of  his  urging  the  people  to  piety 
and  morality,  as  the  foundation  of  the  greatest  good  of 
which  their  natures  were  capable,  and  as  a  compliance 
with  the  will  of  their  Almighty  Creator  and  Preserver. 
They  believed,  that  the  scriptures  affirmed,  that  God 
would  punish  men  for  sin,  even  in  this  world,  in  a  manner 
which  would  far,  very  far  overbalance  the  pleasures  to  be 
derived  from  vice.  They  conceived,  that  the  idea  that 
it  was  necessary  to  the  good  order  of  government,  that 
the  teachers  of  religion  should  thunder  out  the  doctrine  of 
everlasting  punishment  to  deter  men  from  atrocious  crimes, 
which  they  might  otherwise  commit  in  secret,  had  long 
been  hackneyed  in  the  hands  of  men  in  power,  but  with- 
out any  warrant  from  reason  or  revelation.  Reason, 
without  the  aid  of  revelation,  gave  no  intimation  of  a  state 
of  retribution  beyond  the  grave  :  and  the  gospel  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light;  nor  said  they,  was  it  until 
the  Christian  church  was  illegally  wedded  to  state  policy, 
that  men  in  power  dared  to  hurl  the  thunders  of  the  Most 
High  at  those  who  offended  against  government.  But, 
they  added,  should  the  point  be  maintained,  that  courts 
and  juries  are  authorized  to  determine,  whether  the  teach- 
er of  a  religious  sect  is  a  teacher  of  morality,  from  his 
opinion  either  of  the  cause,  mode,  or  state  of  men's  happi- 
ness or  misery  in  another  world,  or  from  his  opinion  of 
the  nature,  or  proportions  of  the  rewards  for  virtue,  orthe 
punishments  for  vice  in  a  future  state,  no  sect  or  denomi- 
nation could  be  safe,  it  being  a  matter  resting  on  opinion 
only,  without  any  earthly  tribunal  having  the  ability  or 
authority  to  settle  the  question.  Suppose  an  Episco- 
palian teacher  should  have  an  action  in  his  name  to 
recover  the  money,   paid  by  his  hearers.      Perhaps  he 

^ion  whatever  Jew  or  Mahometan.  It  would  be  for  the  Jury  to  deter- 
mine, if  Mr.  Murray  was  a  teacher  of  piety,  religion  and  morality  ;  that 
inatter,  he  said,  had  in  his  opinion  been  fully  proved.  The  only  ques- 
tion, therefore,  before  them  was,  if  Mr.  Murray  came  within  the 
description  of  the  Constitution,  and  had  a  right  to  require  the  money. 
<  It  is  my  opinion,'  he  declared,  '  that  Mr.  Murray  comes  within  the 
description  of  the  Constitution,  and  has  a  right  to  require  the  money.' 
Having  been  out  all  night,  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  in  the  morning 
in  favor  of  the  plaintiff.' 


,226  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN     MURRAY. 

might  be  one,  who  subscribed  and  sworn  to  the  thirty-nine 
articles,  the  truth  of  which  is  well  supported  by  act  ofparlia- 
^nent:  an  objection  might  be  made  trom  one  of  the  articles, 
that  tells  us,  God  from  all  eternity  elected  a  certain  number 
to  happiness,  and  predestinated  all  the  rest  of  the  human 
race  to  everlasting  misery  ;  and  this  of  his  own  sovereign 
will,  without  any  regard  to  the  merit  of  the  one  or  the  demer- 
it of  the  other.  A  jury  might  be  found,  who  would  decide 
at  once,  that  this  doctrine  is  subversive  of  all  morality  and 
good  order  ;  for,,  if  the  state  of  every  man  be  unalterably 
fixed  from  all  eternity,  and  nothing  done  by  him  can  in  any 
wise  change  the  divine  decree,  why,  then  the  elect  may 
conceive  themselves  justified  in  seeking  to  injure  those, 
whom  God  from  eternity  has  consigned  to  perdition. 

But  should  an  Arminian  be  in  trial,  and  it  appeared  he 
taught  his  people  it  was  within  their  own  power  to  procure 
future  happiness,  a  jury  might  not  be  able  to  distinguish 
between  the  prescience  and  the  foreordination  of  God  ;  and 
it  might  be  called  impiety  to  allege,  that  the  infinitely  wise 
Being  did  not  from  all  eternity  know  the  ultimate  fate  of 
all  his  creatures.  It  would  at  least  be  called  derogatory  to 
the  honor  of  the  Most  High,  to  suppose  any  thing  to  be  con- 
tingent with  Him  ;  and  therefore  a  teacher  of  such  princi- 
ples might  in  the  eye  of  some  persons  be  viewed  as  a  teach- 
er of  impiety  and  immorality.  From  these  and  various 
other  considerations,  the  Gloucesterians  humbly  conceived, 
that  religion  was  a  matter  between  an  individual  and  his 
God  ;  that  no  man  had  a  right  to  dictate  a  mode  of  worship 
to  another  ;  that,  in  that  respect,  every  man  stood  upon  a 
perfect  equality  ;  and  they  believed  that  the  paucity  of 
their  numbers,  and  the  prejudices  of  their  enemies,  had 
pointed  them  out  as  proper  objects  for  the  first  essay  of 
religious  tyranny  ;  hence  they  rather  chose  to  seek  redress 
from  the  great  law,  made  by  the  people  to  govern  the 
Legislature,  than  from  the  Legislature  itself;  believing 
they  should  betray  the  freedom  of  their  country,  if  they 
timidly  shrunk  fi'om  a  trial,  upon  the  great  principles  of 
the  constitution,  indeed  they  seemed  to  consider  themselves 
as  the  Hamdens  of  our  religious  world. 

In  the  course  of  the  month  of  September,  1785^  a  writ 
^  of  review  was  again  served,  and  the  final  decision  was 
referred,  and  deferred,  until  the  June  of  1786,  when  a 
conclusive  verdict  was  obtained  in  favor  of  the  plaintiffs. 
Mr.  Murray  was  then  in  the  state  of  Connecticut.  We 
transcribe  an  extract  from  a  letter,  which  wafted  to  the 
eye  and  ear  of  the  promulgator  intelligence  of  the  emanci- 
pation of  his  adherents. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  SOV 

*  Last  Tuesday  our  party  with  their  cloud  of  witnesses 
were  present,  and  called  out  at  the  bar  of  the  Supreme 
Judicial  Court.  The  cause  was  opened  by  Mr.  Bradbury, 
and  replied  to  by  Mr.  Hitchborne;  the  court  adjourned  to 
the  succeeding  morning.  I  arrived  just  in  season  to  hear 
it  taken  up  by  Mr.  Parsons,  and  closed  by  Mr.  Sullivan. 
I  wish  for  an  opportunity  to  render  my  acknowledgments 
to  this  gentleman.  He  displayed  upon  this  day  an  elo- 
quence, not  less  than  Roman.  The  judges  summed  up 
the  whole.  The  first  was  ambiguous,  the  second  was  so 
trammelled,  and  inarticulate,  as  to  be  scarcely  understood; 
but  the  remaining  three  have  acquired  a  glory  which  will 
be  as  lasting  as  time.  The  conduct  of  Judge  Dana  at- 
tracted particular  notice.  You  remember  he  heretofore 
labored  against  us;  there  appeared  a  disposition  to  travers 
our  counsil;  in  his  comments  on  the  constitution,  those 
parts  which  made  for  us,  he  turned  against  us;  he  assert- 
ed the  tax  was  not  persecuting,  but  legal;  religious  socie- 
ties were  bodies  corporate,  or  meant  to  be  so;  sect  and 
denomination  were  promiscuously  used  and  synonimous: 
and  the  whole  was  delivered  with  a  sententious  gravity, 
the  result  of  faculties,  laboriously  cultivated  by  experience 
and  study.  But  a  revolution  had  now  passed  in  his  mind, 
and  when  he  noticed  that  article  in  the  constitution,  which 
,  directs  monies  to  be  applied  to  the  teacher  of  his  own 
religious  sect,  he  said,  the  whole  cause  depended  upon 
the  construction  of  that  clause.  He  had  heretofore  been 
of  opinion,  it  meant  teachers  of  bodies  corporate;  he  then 
thought  otherwise;  as  the  constitution  was  meant  for  a 
liberal  purpose,  its  construction  should  be  of  a  most  liberal 
kind;  it  meant,  in  this  instance,  teachers  of  any  persuasion 
whatever,  Jew  or  Mahometan.  It  would  be  for  the  jury 
to  determine,  if  Mr.  Murray  was  a  teacher  of  piety, 
religion,  and  morality;  that  matter,  he  said,  had  in  his 
opinion  been  fully  proved.  The  only  question  therefore 
before  them  was,  if  Mr.  Murray  came  within  the  de- 
scription of  the  constitution,  and  had  a  right  to  require  the 
money.  '  It  is  my  opinion,'  he  decidedly  declared,  *  that 
Mr.  Murray  comes  within  the  description  of  the  constitu- 
tion, and  has  a  right  to  require  the  money.'  The  jury 
received  the  cause,  and  departed  the  court  at  half  past 
three.  In  the  evening  they  returned,  with  a  declaration, 
that  they  could  not  agree.  The  Chief  Judge,  with  some 
asperity,  ordered  them  to  take  the  papers  and  go  out 
again;  they  continued  in  deliberation  through  the  whole 
night.  Thursday  morning  they  came  in  again,  declaring 
their  unanimous  agreement,  that  the  judgment  obtained 


228  LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

the  preceding  year  was  in  nothing  errorieous.  Thus  have 
we  gained  our  cause,  after  trials  of  such  expectation  and 
severity.  We  rejoice  greatly.  It  is  the  Lord's  doings, 
and  marvellous  in  our  eyes.' 

Mr.  Murray  continued  uniformly  to  devote  the  summer 
months  to  his  multiplied  adherents,  from  Maryland  to 
New-Hampshire:  in  what  manner,  is  copiously  described 
in  his  Letters  and  Sketches  of  Sermons.  In  the  February 
of  1783,  we  find  the  preacher,  as  usual,  deeply  interested 
in  the  cause  of  his  Great  Master,  and  suggesting,  in  a 
letter  to  his  friend  and  fellow-laborer,  Mr.  Noah  Parker, 
the  propriety  of  an  annual  meeting  of  the  heralds  of  re- 
demption ;  his  words  are :  '  Indeed  it  would  gladden  my 
heart,  if  every  one  who  stands  forth  a  public  witness  of 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  could  have  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  and  conversing  one  with  another,  at  least  once 
every  year.  I  believe  it  would  be  attended  with  very 
good  effects.  Think  of  it,  my  friend,  and  let  me  know 
the  result  of  your  deliberation.  I  think  these  servants  of 
the  Most  High  might  assemble  one  year  at  Norwich,  one 
year  at  Boston,  and  another  at  Portsmouth,  or  wherever 
it  may  be  most  convenient.  I  have  long  contemplated  an 
association  of  this  description;  and  the  longer  I  deliberate, 
the  more  I  am  convinced  of  the  utility  which  would  be 
annexed  to  the  regulation.'  In  the  September  of  1785, 
the  preacher,  writing  to  the  same  friend,  thus  expresses 
himself:  '  Although  very  much  mdisposed,  I  am  com- 
mencing a  journey  to  Oxford,  where  I  expect  to  meet  a 
number  of  our  religious  brethren,  from  different  towns, 
in  which  the  gospel  has  been  preached  and  believed,  for 
the  purpose  of  deliberating  upon  some  plan,  to  defeat  the 
designs  of  our  enemies,  who  aim  at  robbing  us  of  the 
liberty,  wherewith  the  constitution  has  made  us  free.  On 
my  return,  I  shall  communicate  to  you  the  result  of  our 
meeting.'  Upon  the  close  of  the  same  month  of  Septem- 
ber, he  thus  writes:  'Well,  I  have  been  to  Oxford,  and 
the  assembly  convened  there  was  truly  primitive.  We 
deliberated,  first,  on  a  name;  secondly,  on  the  propriety 
of  being  united  in  our  common  defence;  thirdly,  upon  the 
utility  of  an  annual  meeting  of  representatives  from  the 
different  societies;  and  fourthly,  upon  keeping  up  a  constant 
correspondence  by  letter.  Each  of  the  particulars  are  to  be 
laid  before  the  societies,  represented  by  their  delegates  on 
this  occasion,  and,  if  approved,  their  approbation  to  be 
announced  by  circular  letters,  to  the  several  societies. 
Mr.  Winchester  delivered  a  most  excellent  sermon;  his 
subject  was,  '  But  though  we,  or  an  angel  from  heaven, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  $90 

preach  any  other  gospel  unto  you,  than  that  which  we 
have  preached  unto  you,  let  him  be  accursed.'  By  the 
desire  of  Mr.  Winchester,  I  closed  the  subject.' 

Thus  was  a  -feonvention  formed,  and,  we  may  add, 
organized,  by  the  Father  of  Universalism  in  this  country. 
But,  alas!  in  no  long  time,  a  root  of  bitterness  sprang  up, 
f  which  destroyed  his  pleasure  in  the  association.  Yet,  in 
the  last  stage  of  his  pilgrimage,  he  frequently  regretted, 
pthat  his  attendance  upon  this  convention  had  not  been 
more  uniform;  as  he  might  possibly,  by  his  years  and  his 
experience,  have  met  and  obviated  the  difficulties  which 
distressed  him.  Mr.  Winchester,  searching  the  bible  for 
arguments  to  confute  Mr.  Murray,  became  himself  a 
Universalist,  but  he  was  a  Universalist  of  the  Chauncian 
school.  He  was  a  man  of  pure  morals,  and  an  ardent 
lover  of  the  Redeemer. 

At  this  period,  in  addition  to  the  houses  erected  in 
Gloucester,  and  in  Portsmouth,  a  convenient  place  for 
public  worship  was  procured  by  the  Universalists  in  the 
city  of  Philadelphia;  and,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  a 
church  had  been  purchased,  which  they  forbore  to  open, 
until  it  could  be  dedicated  by  the  peace-speaking  voice  of 
the  promulgator.  In  the  course  of  the  autumn  or  winter 
of  1785,  the  Bostonians  purchased  a  meeting-house  in 
Bennet-street.  This  house  they  enlarged  and  beautified; 
here  Mr.  Murray  was  occasionally  their  officiating  minis- 
ter. And  in  the  metropolis  of  Pennsylvania,  New  York, 
and  Massachusetts,  he  was  earnestly  solicited  to  take  up 
his  residence. 

Previous  to  the  decision  obtained  by  the  Gloucesterians, 
a  prosecution  was  commenced  against  their  preacher,  for 
performing  the  marriage  ceremony.  Persuaded  that  he 
was  commissioned  by  his  God  to  preach  the  gospel,  and 
knowing  that  he  was  ordained  by  the  people  to  whom  he 
administered,  he  believed  himself  authorized  to  receive 
the  nuptial  vows  of  as  many  among  his  adherents,  as, 
furnished  with  the  requisite  certificates,  made  application 
to  him  for  this  purpose.  A  single  instance  was  selected 
by  his  implacable  foes,  and  a  special  verdict  obtained, 
which  condemned  the  preacher  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty 
pounds.  But  this  was  not  all;  he  had  frequently  perform- 
ed the  marriage  ceremony.  Prosecution  would  most 
unquestionably  succeed  prosecution;  and  the  sum  total  of 
multiplied  amercements  would  involve  difficulties  not 
easily  surmounted.  Prudence  whispered  the  persecuted 
man  of  God,  that  he  ought  to  absent  himself  until  the 
interference  of  the  Legislature  could  be  obtained;  and 
20 


230  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAT. 

inclination  pointed  his  way  over  the  pathless  deep,  for  the 
purpose  of  once  more  visiting  his  native  shores,  holding 
sweet  converse  with  a  few  select  friends,  and  folding  to 
his  filial  bosom  his  venerable  mother.  Assured  of  the 
propriety  of  a  step  so  important  to  his  numerous  Ameri- 
can connexions,  on  the  6th  of  January,  1788,  he  embarked 
for  England.  Noble  provision  was  made  for  him  by  the 
Bostonians,  and  all  the  expenses  of  the  voyage  defrayed. 
Russell,  the  benevolent  Russell,  was  his  friend.  Russell 
the  philanthropist;  who,  like  his  God,  delighted  in  speak- 
ing peace  to  the  sons  and  daughters  of  adversity.  Dear 
sympathizing  friend  of  man  !  to  the  children  of  sorrow  thy 
memory  is  right  precious.  Had  thy  stinted  abilities  been 
commensurate  with  thy  will,  the  voice  of  gladness  would 
have  resounded  in  every  dwelling.  Nor  Russell  alone: 
many  pressed  forward,  whose  liberal  hearts  devised 
liberal  things;  and  substantial  manifestation  of  affection 
to  the  preacher  were  abundant  and  munificent. 

During  Mr.  Murray's  absence,  the  Legislature  was  ad- 
dressed. We  regret  that  we  cannot  exhibit  a  complete 
copy  of  the  petitions  which  were  presented,  but  such  ex- 
tracts, as  we  can  command,  we  transcribe; 

'  To  the  honorable  Senate,  and  the  House  of  Represen- 
tatives of  the  commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  assembled 
in  Boston,  in  February,  1788;  John  Murray,  of  Glouces- 
ter, in  the  county  of  Essex,  would  humbly  represent  to 
your  Honors  that  about  seventeen  years  ago,  he  came  in- 
to this  country  which  he  considered  as  the  assylum  of  re- 
ligion and  benevolence;  that  on  his  arrival  he  began  to 
preach  the  gospel  of  peace;  in  doing  which  he  met  with 
many  cordial  friends  some  of  whom,  namely,  a  society  of 
Christians  in  Gloucester,  distinguished  themselves  by  their 
uniform  attachment  to  the  message,  and  the  messenger; 
and  after  your  petitioner  had  occasionally  labored  among 
them,  for  a  considerable  time,  they  associated  together,  as 
an  Independent  church,  built  a  meeting-house,  and  invi- 
ted your  petitioner  to  reside  with  them,  as  their  settled 
minister;  and,  in  the  month  of  December,  in  the  year 
1780,  did  appoint,  set  apart  and  ordain  him  to  the  work  of 
the  ministry,  and  to  be  their  teacher  of  piety,  religion,  and 
morality;  that  ever  since  that  period,  he  has  considered 
himself,  and  has  been  considered  by  the  people  he  has 
statedly  labored  amongst,  as  their  ordained  minister,  and 
though  your  petitioner  has,  on  sundry  occasions,  visited; 
and  labored  amongst  his  Christian  friends,  in  other  places, 
it  has  always  been  with  the  consent  of  his  people,  they 
still  looking  on  him,  and  he  on  himself,  as  their  ordained 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHW    MURRAY.  ^^ 

minister.  It  also  appears,  that  the  people,  among  whom 
your  petitioner  has  t'requently  labored,  have  considered 
jjim  iu  the  same  light j  as  they  have  formally  requested 
license  of  his  people  of  Gloucester,  who  after  consultation 
granted  that  license.  Another  circumstance  that  tended 
to  confirm  your  petitioner  in  the  belief  of  his  being  aji  or- 
dained minister  In  thg  strictest  sense  of  the  word,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  law,  was  the  verdict 
^iven  in  favor  of  him  and  his  people,  by  the  Honorable 
Supreme  Court  and  jury,  when,  after  suffering  much  abuse 
from  their  persecuting  opponents  in  Gloucester,  they  were 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  applying  to  the  laws  of  their 
country,  for  redress  and  protection.  But  their  opponents, 
dissatisfied  with  the  verdict  then  obtained,  demanded  a 
review;  after  which  review,  the  former  verdict  was  con- 
firmed by  the  full,  and  decided  opinion  of  the  honorable 
court  given  in  their  favor. 

'  Being  thus  by  constitutional  right,  and  legal  decision, 
established  as  an  independent  minister,  settled  with,  and 
ordained  by,  the  joint  surffiages  of  the  members  of  that  Re- 
ligious Society,  your  petitioner  supposed  his  troubles  from 
his  persecuting  enemies  were  at  an  end.  And  upon  con- 
sulting council  learned  in  the  law,  who  gave  it  as  their  de- 
cided opinion  that  he  was  an  ordained  minister,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  perform  the  ceremon}"^  of  marriage  to  such  of 
his  hearers,  who  made  application  to  him  for  that  purpose. 
But  some  of  his  opponents,  unacquainted  with  the  inde- 
pendent mode  of  ordination,  and  presuming  your  petition- 
er was  not  ordained,  because  the  rrAne  ceremonies  were 
not  made  use  of  in  his  ordination,  to  the  use  of  which  they 
were  accustomed,  brought  the  question  of  your  petition- 
er's right  of  officiating  as  an  ordained  minister,  before  the 
Judges  of  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court,  who  gave  it  as 
their  opinion,  that  he  was  not  an  ordained  minister,  in  the 
sense  of  the  law,  as  the  forms  of  his  ordination  were  not 
sulfiiciently  notorious.  Your  petitioner,  and  the  people 
who  ordained  hi;'.',  conceived  his  ordination  was  suffici- 
ently notorious,  as  the  article  was  subscribed  by  every 
member  of  the  society;  and  the  honorable  court  consider- 
ed him  a  public  teacher  of  Piety,  Religion,  and  Morality. 
Tho  recent  adjudication  of  the  honorable  Judges  has  in- 
volved your  petitioner's  little  flock,  in  Gloucester,  in  ex- 
pense, and  exquisite  distress;  and  your  petitioner  is  ruin- 
ed, unless  your  honors  can  interfere  for  his  relief.  He 
must  not  only  satisfy  the  heavy  penalty  already  forfeited, 
to  his  said  opponents,  and  prosecutors,  but  he  is  liable  to 
repeated  forfeitures  of  like  penalties  for  every  marriage 


2S2  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

he  has  performed,  since  he  has  conceived  himself  the  or- 
dained minister  oftiiat  people,  w^hich  must  involve  his 
friends  in  expense,  or  consign  him  to  a  gaol.  Nor  is  this 
all;  supposing  his  ordination  invalid,  he  is,  by  the  letter 
of  the  law,  liable  to  ignominious  punishment.  Now,  as 
equity  is  said  to  be  that  interference  of  the  supreme  pow- 
er, which  alleviates,  where  the  law,  by  being  too  compre- 
hensive, has  involved  a  case  to  which  it  was  not  perhaps 
meant  to  extend  ;  and  as  he,  and  his  people,  his  council, 
and  the  world  at  large,  supposed  hin«  ordained,  as  much 
as  an  Episcopalian,  or  any  other  teacher,  however  differ- 
ent the  modo  of  ordination,  he  most  humbly  prays  your 
honors,  to  idemnify  him  for  any  further  prosecution,  for 
any  marriage  he  may  have  solemnized,  under  his  suppos- 
ed right;  and  by  this  means  rescue  him  from  the  perse- 
cuting power  of  his  malignant  adversaries,  restore  the 
exercise  of  religious  rites  to  his  oppressed,  and  afflicted 
people,  establish  in  the  Commonwealth,  in  which  he  has 
long  had  his  residence,  that  peace  which  has  been  broken 
by  the  malice  of  his  enemies.  Your  petitioner  would  in 
person  have  waited  on  such  committee  of  your  honors,  as 
might  be  appointed  to  consider  this  petition,  but  his  well 
grounded  fears  that  prosecutions  would  be  multiplied  up- 
on him,  by  the  zeal  of  his  religious  adversaries,  has  neces- 
itated  him  to  absent  himself  from  the  country  of  his  adop- 
tion, and  his  dear  people,  until  such  time  as  the  clemency 
of  your  honors  might  be  obtained  in  his  behalf.' 

The  congregation  in  Gloucester,  addressed  the  Legis- 
lature in  a  separate  petition,  and  the  Judges,  Sullivan 
and  Dawes,  co-operated  with  Mr.  Russell,  in  persevering 
efforts  to  obtain  a  decision.  The  petitions  were  referred  to  a 
committee  of  three  gentlemen,  of  great  respectability,  who 
speedily  prepared,  and  handed  in  their  report,  which  waR 
laid  upon  the  speakers  table,  whence  it  was  drawn  forth 
by  the  speaker  of  the  House,  James  Warren,  Esq.,  accep- 
ted by  a  handsome  majority,  and  sent  up  to  the  Senate  for 
concurrence.  The  report  was  called  up  from  the  Presi- 
dent's table,  by  the  Honorable  Mr  Dalton,  when  after  a 
debate  of  two  hours,  it  passed  the  Senate,  almost  unani- 
mously. This  most  acceptable  result  was  made  known  to 
the  deeply  interested  Gloucesterians,  by  a  writing,  of 
which  the  following  is  a  verbatim  copy : 

COMMONWEALTH   OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

In  the  House  of  Representatives,  March  ilth,  1788. 
Whereas  John  Murray,  and  others,  have  represented 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  2S8 

to  this  court,  that  the  said  Murray,  esteeming  himself  le- 
gally qualified,  had  solemnized  certain  marriages,  and  that 
by  a  decision  had  in  the  Superior  Judicial  Court,  it  was 
determined  that  the  said  Murray  had  no  such  authority, 
praying  that  he  may  be  idemnified.  Resolved,  that  the 
said  John  Murray,  be,  and  he  hereby  is,  indemnified  from 
all  pains,  and  penalties,  which  he  may  have  incurred  on 
account  of  having  solemnized  any  marriages,  as  aforesaid, 
for  which  there  has  not  been  any  prosecution  commenced, 
or  had;  and  the  said  Murray  may,  upon  trial  for  any  of  the 
offences  aforesaid,  give  this  resolution,  in  evidence,  upon 
the  general  issue,  which  shall  have  the  same  operation 
as  if  specially  pleaded. 

Sent  up  for  concurrence.     James  Warren,  Speaker. 
In  Senate,  March  ^7tk  1788. 

Read  and  concurred.         Samuel  Adams,  President. 
Approved,  JOHN  HANCOCK. 

True  copy;  attest, 
John  Avery,  Jun.,  Secretary. 

Meantime,  the  persecuted,  and  now  nobly  redressed 
promulgator  was  speeding  across  the  gr^at  waters.  His 
passage  over  the  Atlantic  was  uncommonly  boisterous: 
the  European  winter  of  this  year  was  very  severe.  More 
navigation,  and  lives,  were  lost,  in  the  January  and 
February  of  1788,  upon  the  tremendous  coasts  of  Corn- 
wall, than  had  ever  before  been  known,  in  any  one 
season.  At  length,  however,  the  Chalky  Cliffs  of  hie 
native  shore  met  his  gladdened  view,  and  the  heaven- 
protected  vessel  cast  anchor  in  the  commodious  harbor  of 
Falmouth.  Mr.  Murray  was  an  entire  stranger  to  this 
part  of  England;  but,  by  the  Bostonians  and  Glouceste- 
rians,  he  had  been  furnished  with  recommendatory  letters, 
thus  worded: 

'We,  the  Subscribers,  members  of  the  Christian  Inde- 
pendent Church  in  Boston,  do,  on  behalf  of  ourselves  and 
our  brethren,  by  these  presents,  certify  to  all  whom  it  may 
concern,  that  the  bearer,  Mr.  John  Murray,'  (settled 
Minister  of  the  Independent  Church  in  Gloucester)  for 
more  than  fourteen  years  past,  hath  occasionally  labored 
among  us,  in  this  place,  much  to  the  edification,  and  con- 
solation of  God's  people;  and  we  bless  God,  therefore, 
and  most  sincerely  pray,  that  the  good  will  of  Him  who 
dwelt  in  the  Bush  may  accompany  him  on  his  way,  and 
20* 


284  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

bring  him  back  to  his  numerous  friends,  richly  laden  with 
the  blessings  of  the  Gospel  of  peace.' 

'  Signed  by  the  mo.it  respectable  members  of  the 
Church.' 

Gloucester,  January  4th,  1788. 

*  Be  it  known  universally,  that  We  the  elders,  on 
behalf  of  the  Independent  Church  of  Christ  in  Gloucester, 
do  certify  that  the  bearer,  Mr.  John  Murray,  is,  and 
has  been  for  many  years  past,  our  ordained  minister^ 
and  we  pray  God  to  preserve  him,  and  return  him  to  us  io 
safety.' 

(Signed)  Winthrop  Sargent, 

Epes  Sargent, 
David  Plummer. 

Mr.  Murray  was  received  in  Falmouth,  with  fraternal 
kindness.  The  Sunday  succeeding  his  arrival,  the  pulpit 
of  a  gentleman,  once  in  connexion  with  Mr.  Whitefield^ 
was  thrown  open  to  him,  Avhere  he  preached  forenoon 
and  afternoon,  and  continued  delivering  evening  lecture? 
until  February  14,  when  he  resumed  his  journey  by  land, 
to  London,  proclaiming  glad  tiding*  from  the  pulpits,  as 
he  passed  along,  to  which  free  access  was  granted  him;  at 
Truro  Cheswater,  Tregony,  Mevegessey,  St  Austle 
Looe,  in  the  several  churches  at  Plymouth,  and  Plymouth 
Dock,  Exeter,  Wellington,  &c.  &c.,  he  delivered  his 
God-honoring,  man-restoring  message.  Several  clergy- 
men always  attended  his  lectures,  and  one  gentleman 
accompanied  him  even  to  Exeter.  We  select  a  few  of 
the  subjects,  upon  which  he  delighted  to  dwell.  The 
lights  ordained  by  the  Creator  for  signs,  Genesis  iii,  15. 
The  dress  of  the  Jewish  High  Priest,  the  1st  Psalm,  the 
89th  Psalm,  Zechariah  ix.  9,  1st  John,  4,  and  many 
passages  drawn  from  Isaiah,  and  the  Epistles  of  the 
Apistles  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  His  manner  of  passing  his 
time,  and  the  devout  propensities  of  his  pious  heart,  may 
be  gathered  from  a  short  extract  from  his  journal,  a  jour- 
nal replete  with  beauty  and  interest,  to  the  christianized 
mind,  and  containing  descriptions  and  remarks,  worthy 
the  writer: 

'  I  am  delighted  with  walking  through  the  fields  ;  the 
gardens  are  so  very  beautiful,  the  fields  so  very  green,  the 
linnets  and  goldfinches  so  busy  on  the  hedges,  preparing 
their  habitations.  These  songsters  of  the  groves,  which  are 
vocal  on  every  spray,  are  to  me  like  old  and  pleasing  ac- 
quaintance, not  seen  nor  heard  of  for  a  great  number  of 
years,   while  the  fascinating  choristers,  in  whom  I  have 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  ^5 

taken  so  much  delight,  seem  by  their  cheering  notes,  to  wel- 
come me  as  I  pass  along  their  native  fields  and  hegdgee. 
The  primroses,  and  a  variety  of  other  sweet  flowers,  are 
already  in  full  bloom  j  in  short,every  thing  wears  a  cheerful 
appearance.  How  grateful  ought  I  to  be  to  the  Author  of 
every  good,  who,  in  this  dear  country,  follows  me  with  the 
same  loving  kindness  and  tender  mercy,  with  which  he 
followed  me  in  the  dear  country,  I  have  left.  The  numer- 
ous friends,  with  whom  I  occasionally  sojourn,  are  as 
anxious  to  detain  me  with  them,  and  lament  the  necessity 
of  my  departure,  precisely  as  did  my  American  friends  ; 
their  hearts  swell  with  transport,  while  I  simply  declare 
the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,  and  they  reiterate  their  ex- 
pressions of  admiration  of  the  gracious  words,  which  God 
enables  me  to  utter,  in  like  manner  as  did  the  good  Glou- 
cesterian  Elder,  Mr.  Warner,  on  my  first  visit  to  that 
place.  We  mingle  our  supplications  and  addresses  our 
thanksgiving  and  our  praises,  and  our  hearts  burn  within 
usj  while  we  converse  of  the  goodness  of  our  God,  and  the 
gracious  purposes  of  redeeming  love.  Surely  it  would  be 
ill  judged,  if  not  cruel,  in  such  circumstances,  to  dash  the 
cup  of  felicity  from  the  lips  of  these  humble  dependents 
upon  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  because  perhaps 
they  do  not  see  to  the  end  of  the  divine  purposes.  I  never 
will  preach  any  thing  but  the  gosf)el  of  God  our  Saviour, 
any  where  ;  but  I  will  leave  those  dear  people  to  draw 
their  conclusions,  and,  in  the  interim,  I  will  feed  them  with 
the  sincere  milk  of  the  word,  that  they  may  grow  thereby. 
The  inhabitants  of  this  place  (Falmouth)  are  a  very 
friendly  religious  people.  May  God  grant  them  peace, 
and  give  them  abundant  consolation  in  believing.  The 
people  every  where  hear  with  American  attention. 
Clergymen,  wherever  I  sojourn,  are  generally  my  hosts. 
Gospel  unadulterated  gospel  is  pleasant  to  the  believing 
soul  ;  I  content  myself  with  showing  that  man  is  lost  by 
sin;  that  the  law  is  the  ministration  of  death;  that  the 
gospel  is  a  divine  declaration  of  life,  by  Jesus  Christ,  to 
every  creature.  Yes,  I  will  continue  to  preach  the  gospel 
freely  to  every  creature.  I  will  endeavor  to  point  out  its 
glories,  and  the  many  advantages  attendant  on  believing 
the  divine  report.  This,  by  the  grace  of  God,  shall  still  be 
the  business  of  my  life.  Many  clergymen  attend  me  in 
my  progress;  no  less  than  seven  have  been  among  my  audi- 
ence at  one  time  ;  and  on  my  descending  from  the  pulpit, 
they  usually  take  my  hand,  and  devoutly  thank  me  for 
bearing  so  good  a  testimony  for  Jesus  Christ;  for  speaking 
so  well  of  the  Redeemer,  adding,  that  it  is  a  pity  I  should 


^M  LIFE    or    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

dd  any  thing  but  preach.  Numbers  flock  around  me,  and, 
in  fact,  were  I  an  angel  descended  from  above,  I  could  not 
be  followed  with  more  uniform  attention.' 

London  is  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  Falmouth. 
The  preacher  did  not  reach  that  metropolis  until  the  16th 
of  March,  and  his  time  was  most  delightfully  passed  in  the 
service  of  God  the  Saviour.  Upon  one  occasion,  his  en- 
trance into  one  spacious  place  of  worship  was  hailed  by  the 
musical  choir  devoutly  chanting: 

*  Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow 

The  gladly  solemn  sound,  ':> 

Let  all  the  nations  know, 

To  earth's  remotest  bound, 
The  year  of  Jubilee  is  come, 
Return,  ye  ransomed  sinners  home.' 

Yet,  even  in  this  short  visit  to  his  native  island,  the  pro- 
mulgator went  through  evil  as  well  as  good  report.  We 
subjoin  a  specimen  of  each.  A  gentleman  of  Falmouth, 
writing  to  his  friend  in  Tregony,  thus  expresses  himself: 

Mr.  Murray  will  shortly  be  in  your  town;  we  have  at- 
tended upon  him  here  with  inexpressible  delight;  three  such 
sermons  as  he  has  delivered,  my  ears  never  before  heard; 
such  a  preacher  never  before  appeared  in  this  town.  I  am 
convinced  his  ideas  are  all  his  own;  I  never  heard  any  thing 
like  them;  his  mind  seems  clearly  informed,  and  his  heart 
very  much  warmed  by  thfe  love  of  God .'  But  the  following 
adtertisement  appeared  in  a  London  paper : 

*  Mr.  Murray  is  an  American,  the  most  popular  preach- 
ed' in  the  United  States.  In  the  conclusion  of  one  of  his 
sermons,  preached  on  that  continent  he  endeavored  to 
enforce  with  all  the  powers  of  eloquence,  the  necessity  of 
establishing  in  those  States  the  same  Olympic  games,  which 
Were  for  many  ages  esatblished  among  the  Grecians.'  Bui 
this  was  not  all;  it  was  storied,  that  he  had  left  America  in 
consequence  of  a  criminal  prosecution. 

Arriving  at  London,  he  was  once  more  enriched  by  the 
maternal  benediction.  '  He  found  his  venerable  parent  in 
the  enjoyment  of  a  fine  green  old  age,  and  again  she  re- 
joiced in  the  presence  of  her  son.  In  London,  and  at 
Hamstead,  in  the  meeting-house  once  occupied  by  Mr. 
Whitefield,  he  delivered  his  message  of  peace.  Patronized 
in  the  city  of  London,  by  an  opulent  family,  who  cherished 
Mm'  as  a  son,  he  was  strongly  solicited  once  more  to  take 
up  his  abode  in  that  metropolis;  but  the  providence  of  God 
had  not  so  decreed,  and,  after  continuing  there  a  short 
time,  he  departed  thence,  and  journied  to    Portsmoutk 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  iPf 

for  the  purpose  of  being  in  readiness  to  commence  his  re- 
turn to  America.  In  Portsmouth,  he  was  again  a  solitary 
stranger;  but  he  had  not  been  more  than  four  hours  in  that 
celebrated  and  important  emporium,  ere  he  was  engaged, 
by  a  respectable  clergyman,  to  preach  a  lecture,  which  had 
been  previously  announced.  In  Portsmouth  he  tarried  two 
weeks,  preaching  frequently.  On  his  first  lecture,  he  was 
solicited  by  a  doctor  Miller  to  accompany  him  to  his  habi- 
tation, where  he  abode  until  he  departed  from  that  town. 
The  circle  of  his  acquaintance  soon  became  large,  among 
whom  he  numbered  very  respectable  friends.  When  the 
clergyman,  with  whom  Mr.  Murray  associated,  during  his 
last  residence  in  England,  became  ascertained  of  his  full 
and  comprehensive  views  of  the  magnitude  and  extent  of 
the  redeeming  plan,  although  very  few  adopted  his  ideas, 
yet  they  still  continued  warmly  attached  to  the  preacher; 
and  the  letters  they  addressed  to  him,  after  his  return  to 
America,  which  are  still  in  being,  would  fill  a  volume.  A 
few  of  the  preachers  responses  are  contained  in  the  vol- 
umes of  Letters  and  Sketches  of  Sermons. 

Mr.  Murray  proceeded  to  Cowes,  upon  the  isle  of  Wight, 
and  from  thence  embarking  for  America,  commenced  his 
Toyage  with  a  fair  wind,  which  soon  changing,  they  were 
under  the  necessity  of  dropping  anchor  in  Portland  harbor, 
where  they  were  long  wind  bound.  His  passage  was  un- 
commonly protracted;  but,  fortunateily,  the  passengers  uni- 
ted to  give  it  every  charm  of  which  society  is  susceptible; 
and,  when  we  add,  that  our  late  respectable  President,  the 
Honorable  John  Adams  and  Lady  were  of  the  nuniber,  the 
pleasures  of  the  voyage  will  be  nothing  doubted.  Books, 
music,  and  conversation,  varied  the  tedium  of  the  passing 
weeks;  nor  was  the  preacher  debarred  the  exercise  of  his 
sacred  avocation ;  Mr  Adams  requested  he  would  officiate 
as  their  teacher,  every  Sunday,  and  accordingly  the  ship's 
company,  and  the  passengers,  were,  upon  this  holy  day, 
collected  round  him.  His  first  subject  was  the  third  com- 
mandment. They  united  in  their  addresses  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  and  in  hymning  the  praises  of  their  God. 

Again  reaching  the  shores  of  this  New  World,  the  voice 
of  exoneration  and  of  Freedom  bade  him  welcome;  and 
the  glad  acclamations  of  joy  resounded  among  his  congrat- 
ulating, and  most  aflTectionate  friends.  A  summons  from 
the  Governor  to  attend  a  select  party  at  his  house,  met  him 
on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  and  every  liberal  mind  partook 
the  rational  hilarity  of  the  moment. 

The  Gloucester! ans,  determining  no  more  to  hazard  in- 
vidious persecution,  and  its  train  of  evils  appointed  a  day, 


233  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

the  Christmas  of  1789,  on  \vhich  to  renew,  the  ordination 
of  their  pastor;  and,  after  assembling,  and  effectuating 
their  purpose,  that  they  might  bestow  upon  the  solemft 
transaction  all  possible  publicity,  they  procured  its  inser- 
tion in  the  Centinel  of  January  3d,  1789,  from  which 
paper  we  transcribe  it  verbatim : 

'  Last  Thursday  week,  Mr.  John  Murray  was  ordained 
to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  independant  Church  of 
Christ  in  Gloucester.  After  Mr.  Murray  had  prayed, 
and  one  of  the  congregation  had  announced  the  intention 
of  the  meeting,  and  presented  him,  formally,  with  a  call, 
Mr.  Murray  replied: 

'  Persuaded  of  the  truth  of  the  declaration,  made  by  the 
compilers  of  the  shorter  catechism,  that  God's  works  of 
providence  are  his  most  holy,  wise,  and  powerful,  preserv- 
ing and  governing  all  his  creatures,  and  all  their  actions; 
and  having  a  full  conviction  that  the  affairs  of  the  Church 
are,  in  an  especial  manner,  under  his  immediate  direction; 
and  that  you  my  christian  friends  and  brethren,  are  now 
as  formerly,  under  the  directing  influence  of  that  divine 
spirit,  which,  taking  of  the  things  of  Jesus,  and  showing 
them  unto  me,  constrained  me  to  become  a  preacher  of 
the  everlasting  Gospel,  and  directed  you  to  set  me  aparti 
and  ordain  me,  to  be  your  Minister  I  now  again,  with 
humble  gratitude  to  my  divine  Master,  and  grateful  affec- 
tion for  you,  my  long  tried  and  faithful  christian  friends 
and  brethren,  most  cdrdially  accept  of  this  call.' 

One  of  the  Committee  then  read  the  vote  of  the  Church : 
^  Resolved,  that  we,  the  proprietors  of  the  Independent 
Meeting-House  in  Gloucester,  the  members  of  the  church 
and  congregation  usually  attending  there  for  the  purpose 
of  divine  worship,  do  by  virtue  of  that  power  invested  in 
us  by  the  great  High  Priest  of  our  profession,  the  Bishop 
of  our  souls  and  the  Great  and  only  Head  of  the  Church  ; 
and  according  to  the  institutions  of  the  first  churches  in 
New-England,  and  in  perfect  conformity  to  the  third  arti- 
cle of  the  declaration  of  rights,  in  this  public  manner, 
solemnly  elect  and  ordain,  constitute  and  appoint  Mr. 
John  Murray,  of  said  Gloucester,  clerk,  to  be  our  settled 
Minister,  Pastor,  and  teaching  Elder;  to  preach  the  word 
of  God,  and  to  inculcate  lessons  and  instructions  of  piety, 
religion,  and  morality,  on  the  congregation;  and  to  do, 
perform  and  discharge  all  the  duties  and  offices,  which  of 
right  belong  to  any  other  minister  of  the  Gospel,  or  pub- 
lic teacher  of  Piety,  Religion,  and  Morality;  and  it  is 
hereby  intended,  and  understood,  that  the  authority  and 
rights  hereby  given  to  the  said  Mr.  John  Murray,  to  bp 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  289 

our  settled,  ordained  Ministerj  and  public  teacher,  are  to 
remain  in  fhll  force,  so  long  as  he  shall  continue  to  preach 
the  word  of  God,  and  dispense  instructions  of  piety  reli- 
gion and  morality,  conformable  to  our  opinions  and  no 
longer.' 

*  The  Committee  then  solemnly  presented  him  the 
Bible,  saying  on  its  presentation :  '  Dear  sir.  We  present 
you  these  sacred  scriptures  as  a  solemn  seal  of  your  ordi- 
nation to  the  ministry  of  the  New  Testament;  and  the  sole 
directory  of  your  faith  and  practi(;e.'  His  acceptance 
was  affecting :  as  what  comes  from  the  heart  reaches  the 
heart. 

'  With  my  full  soul  I  thank  our  merciful  God,  for  this 
inestimable  gift.  With  grateful  transport  I  press  it  to  my 
bosom;  I  receive  it  as  the  copy  of  my  Father's  Will, 
as  the  deed  of  an  incorruptible  inheritance:  as  the  uner- 
ring guide  to  my  feet,  and  lanthorn  to  my  paths.  Dear, 
precious  treasure,  thou  hast  been  my  constant  support  in 
every  trying  hour,  and  a  never  failing  source  of  true  con- 
solation. 1  thank  you,  most  sincerely  do  I  thank  you,  for 
this  confirming  seal,  this  sure  directory;  and  I  pray  that 
the  spirit,  which  dictated  these  sacred  pages,  may  enable 
me  to  make  the  best  use  thereof.'  A  sermon  by  Mr. 
Murray,  from  Luke  v.  2,  succeeded.  The  harvest  is 
great,  but  the  laborers  are  few,  &c.  &c. 

*  The  solemnity,  attention,  and  christian  demeanor,  that 
attended  the  whole  transaction  of  the  ordination,  and  every 
other  occurrence  of  the  day,  gave  universal  satisfaction  to 
a  numerous  audience.' 

Days  of  tranquillity  now  succeeded;  weeks,  months, 
nay  years  rolled  on,  and  harmony,  unbroken  harmony, 
presided.  Religion  shed  her  balmy  influence,  her  mind 
irradiating,  passion-subduing  consolations;  and  we  were 
ready  to  say,  stability  dwelleth  even  in  our  times.  But 
alas!  we  too  soon  experienced  that  ^  bliss,  sublunary  bliss,' 
was  not  the  durable  possession  of  mortality. 

It  was  in  this  interval  of  most  pleasant  memory,  that 
Mr.  Murray  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1790,  then  on  a 
visit  to  his  Pennsylvania,  Jersey,  and  New- York  connex- 
ions, was  by  the  Universalists  convened  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  associated  with  Mr.  William  Eugene  Imley, 
to  present  an  address  to  the  immortal  Washington,  then 
President  of  the  United  States.  We  proceed  to  transcribe 
the  address. 


•W  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

To  THE  President  of  the  United  States. 

The  Address  of  the  Convention  of  the   Universal  Church, 
assembled  in  Philadelphia. 

*Sir: 

'  Permit  us  in  the  name  of  the  Society  which  we  repre- 
Fent,  to  concur  in  the  numerous  congratulations  which 
have  been  offered  to  you,  since  your  accession  to  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States. 

'  For  an  account  of  our  principles,  we  beg  leave  to  re- 
fer you  to  the  pamphlet,  which  we  have  now  the  honor  of 
putting  into  your  hands.  In  this  publication  it  will  appear, 
that  the  peculiar  doctrine  whi6h  we  hold  is  not  less  friend- 
ly to  the  order  and  happiness  of  society,  than  it  is  essen- 
tial to  the  perfection  of  the  Deity,  It  is  a  singular  cir- 
cumstance in  the  history  of  this  doctrine,  that  it  has  been 
preached  and  defended  in  every  age  since  the  first  pro- 
mulgation of  the  Gospel;  but  we  represent  the  first  society, 
professing  this  doctrine,  that  have  formed  themselves  into 
an  independent  church.  Posterity  will  hardly  fail  to  con- 
nect this  memorable  event,  with  the  auspicious  years  of 
PEACE,  liberty,  and  free  inquiry  in  the  United  States, 
which  distinguished  the  administration  of  General 
Washington. 

'  We  join,  thus  publicly,  with  our  affectionate  fellow 
citizens,  in  thanks  to  Almighty  God,  for  the  last  of  his 
numerous  signal  acts  of  goodness  to  our  country,  in  pre- 
serving your  valuable  life,  in  a  late  dangerous  indisposi- 
tion, and  we  assure  you.  Sir  that  duty  will  not  prompt  us, 
more  than  affectiDn,  to  pray  that  you  may  long  continue 
the  support  and  ornament  of  our  country,  and  that  you 
may  hereafter  fill  a  higher  station,  and  enjoy  the  greater 
reward  of  being  a  king  and  priest  to  our  God. 

'  Signed  in  behalf,  and  by  order  of  the  convention. 
'  John  Murray 
'William  Eugene  Imley* 


President's  Reply 

'  To  the  Ceweefition  of  the  Universal  Chu/rchj  lately  as- 
sembled in  Philadelphia. 

*  Gentlemen: 
'  I  thank  you,  cordially,  for  the  congratulations,  which 
you  offer  on  my  apointment  to  the  office  I  have  the  honor 
to  hold  in  the  government  of  the  United  States. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  241 

*  It  gives  me  the  most  sensible  pleasure  to  find,  that,  in 
our  nation,  however  different  are  the  sentiments  of  citizens 
on  religious  doctrines,  they  generally  concur  in  one  thing: 
for  their  political  professions,  and  practices,  are  almost 
universally  friendly  to  the  order  and  happiness  of  our 
civil  institutions.  1  am  also  happy  in  finding  this  dispo- 
sition jsarhcw/ar/y  evinced  by  your  society.  It  is  moreover 
my  earnest  desire,  that  the  members  of  every  association, 
or  community,  throughout  the  United  States,  may  make 
such  use  of  the  auspicious  years  of  peace,  liberty,  and  free 
inquiry  with  which  they  are  now  favored,  as  they  shall 
hereafter  find  occasion  to  rejoice  for  having  done. 

'With  great  satisfaction,  I  embrace  this  opportunity,  to 
express  my  acknowledgments  for  the  interest  my  affec- 
tionate fellow  citizens  have  taken  in  my  recovery  from  a 
late  dangerous  indisposition.  And  I  assure  you.  Gentle- 
men, that  in  mentioning  my  obligations  for  the  effusions 
of  your  benevolent  wishes  on  my  behalf,  I  feel  animated 
with  new  zeal,  that  my  conduct  may  ever  be  worthy  of 
your  good  opinion,  as  well  as  such  as  shall,  in  every  re- 
spect, best  comport  with  the  character  of  an  intelligent 
and  accountable  being. 

'G.  WASHINGTON.' 

And  now,  a  large  number  of  Mr.  Murray's  first  friends 
in  Gloucester  were  numbered  with  the  dead.  He  had 
himself  again  become  the  head  of  a  family.  The  times 
were  oppressive,  and  he  considered  it  his  duty  to  provide 
for  those  of  whom  he  had  taken  charge.  The  Bostonians 
were  solicitous  to  hail  the  preacher,  as  their  settled  pastor; 
and  it  was  certain  his  usefulness  would,  in  the  metropolis, 
be  more  extensive.  A  partial  separation  from  the  Glou- 
cesterians  was,  by  mutual  consent,  effectuated.  It  was 
however  stipulated,  that  Mr.  Murray  should  occasionally 
visit  them,  and  that  they  should  be  allowed  to  command 
his  presence,  upon  every  distressing,  or  important  exi- 
gence; and  the  distance  being  no  more  than  an  easy  ride 
of  a  few  hours,  the  adjustment  was  accomplished  without 
much  difficulty.  Yet  did  the  preacher  continue  dissatis- 
fied, until  the  establishment  of  his  successor,  in  the  midst 
of  his  long  loved,  and  early  friends. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Thomas  Jones,  a  native  of  Wales, 
Ifvhom  he  had  induced,  by  his  representations,  to  unite 
with  him  in  his  American  mission,  is  a  gentleman  of  great 
respectability,  of  the  purest  morals,  and  high  in  the  ranks 
of  integrity.  Mr.  Jones  was  e<lucated  at  the  college,  es- 
tablished bv  the  Countess  of  Huntington;  in  which  con- 
21 


242  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

nexion  he  continued,  until  his  attachment  to  the  doctrines 
of  the  gospel,  in  their  most  unlimited  import,  became  the 
signal  for  his  exclusion.  The  installation  of  Mr.  Jones, 
in  Gloucester,  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  philanthropic 
preacher,  and  his  satisfaction  was  complete.  The  Glou- 
cesterians  love  and  respect  their  pastor  and,  their  una- 
nimity is  unbroken.  They  have  erected  a  new  and 
elegant  house  of  worship.  In  Salem  also,  and  in  Ports- 
mouth and  Charlestown,  in  New  York,  and  in  Philadel- 
phia, commodious  buildings  are  reared  to  the  honor  of 
God  our  Saviour. 

On  Wednesday,  23d  of  October,  1793,  the  installation 
of  Mr.  Murray,  took  place  in  the  Universal  Meeting-house 
in  Boston;  the  Presiding  Deacon,  addressed  the  church 
and  congregation  : 

'  Brethren,  it  having  pleased  the  Father  of  mercies  to 
unite  in  bonds  of  Christian  love  and  affection  the  hearts 
of  the  people,  usually  worshipping  in  this  place,  in  the 
choice  of  Mr.  John  Murray  for  their  Pastor  and  Teacher. 
We  have  accordingly  assembled  together,  at  this  time 
and  place,  for  the  solemn  purpose  of  ratifying  here  below, 
what  we  humbly  trust  is  already  recorded  in  heaven.  It 
is  the  duty  of  all  men,  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places, 
humbly  to  implore  the  direction  of  the  great  Head  of  the 
Church,  in  all  their  lawful  undertakings.'  (Then  follow- 
ed an  appropriate  prayer  by  Mr.  Murray.)  After  which, 
the  Deacon  demanded  of  the  church  and  congregation,  as 
they  had  heretofore  expressed  their  desire,  that  Mr.  Mur- 
ray should  become  their  Pastor,  and  Teacher,  if,  at  this 
time,  they  continued  of  that  mind,  they  would  publicly  con- 
firm it,  by  vote — which  was  unanimous.  He  then  requested 
Mr.  Murray's  answer,  which  being  given  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  concluded  his  address :  '  I,  therefore,  in  the  name 
and  behalf  of  this  church  and  congregation — supported 
by  the  constitution  of  this  commonwealth,  declare  you, 
John  Murray,  to  be  the  Pastor  and  Teacher  of  this  First 
Universal  Chijrch  in  Boston;  and  in  their  name  I  present 
unto  you  the  Sacred  Volume,  as  the  rule  of  your  faith 
•  and  practice,  and  as  containing  a  perfect  and  complete 
revelation  of  the  perfections  and  will  of  God :  and  I  fur- 
thermore declare  unto  you,  that  so  long  as  you  continue  to 
preach  the  gospel,  as  delineated  in  these  sacred  pages,  which 
is  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to  every  creature,  as  the  purchase 
of  the  blood  of  Immanuel,  so  long  you  shall  be  considered 
as  our  Pastor,  and  no  longer.  And  now,  dearly  beloved 
Sir,  ^ I  charge  thee,  therefore,  before  God  and  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead  at 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  Q4S 

His  Appearing,  and  His  Kingdom;  to  Preach  the  Word, 
be  instant  in  Season,  out  of  Season;  Reprove,  Rebuke, 
Exhort,  with'  all  long  Suffering,  and  Doctrine.  In  all 
things  showing  thyself  a  Pattern  of  Good  Works:  In 
Doctrine  showing  IJncorrupiness,  Gravity,  Sincerity, 
Sound  Speech  that  cannot  be  condemned;  that  he  that  is 
of  the  contrary  part,  may  be  ashamed,  having  no  Evil 
thing  to  say  of  you.  Jl  Workman  that  needeth  not  to  be 
Ashamed,  Rightly  Dividing  the  word  of  Truth.''  And 
now,  sir,  coinmending  you  with  the  Church  and  Congre- 
gation, over  which  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  made  you  Over- 
seer, to  the  care  and  protection  of  Him  '  that  lovecC us  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood,''  earnestly  be- 
seeching Him  to  build  us  all  up  in  unity  of  the  One 
Spirit,  and  in  the  bond  of  peace.  Now  unto  Him  who 
is  abundantly  able  to  perform  all  these  things  for  us,  and 
to  present  us  all  faultless  before  the  throne  of  an  Infi- 
nite Majesty,  be  all  honor,  glory,  dominion  and  power, 
throughout  the  ages  of  time,  and  a  wasteless  eternity, 
Amen.' 

Mr.  Murray's  reply  was  animated  and  replete  with  af- 
fection; after  which,  a  hymn  was  performed  by  the  choir 
of  singers,  accompanied  by  the  organ.  Next,  an  excel- 
lent discourse  by  Mr  Murray,  from  1  Cor.  ix,  14:  '^For' 
Though  I  preach  the  gospel,  I  have  nothing  to  glory  of: 
for  necessity  is  laid  upon  me;  yea  woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach 
not  the  Gospel.'  A  collection  for  the  distressed  inhabit- 
ants of  Philadelphia  succeeded  the  sermon,  and  an  an- 
them suited  to  the  solemnities  of  the  occasion  was  most 
admirably  chanted.  The  whole  was  conducted  with  strict 
decorum,  to  the  satisfaction  of  a  v€ry  numerous,  respect- 
able, and  attentive  audience. 

Perhaps  no  congregation  were  ever  more  unanimous, 
and  more  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  pastor  of  their  elec- 
tion, than  were  the  people  worshipping  in  the  Church  in 
Bennet-Street ;  and  perhaps  no  minister  was  ever  more 
unfeignedly  attached  to  the  people  of  his  charge,  than 
was  the  long-wandering  preacher.  Both  the  minister  and 
congregation  might  truly  be  said  to  worship  the  Most 
High  in  the  beauty  of,  holiness.  The  ordinance  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  administered  agreeably  to  their  ideas 
of  its  genuine  import.  Parents  brought  their  children  in- 
to the  great  congregation,  standing  in  the  broad  aisle,  in 
the  presence  of  the  worshippers  of  God ;  the  father  re- 
ceived the  babe  from  the  hands  of  the  mother,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  the  servant  of  God  ;  who,  deriving  his  author- 
ity for  this  practice  from  the  example  of  his  Redeemer, 


244  ^I^E    O^    "R-I^V.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

who  saySj  '  suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,'  &-c. 
&c.,  pronounced  aloud  the  name  of  the  child,  and  receiv- 
ed it  as  a  member  of  the  mystical  body  of  him,  who  is 
the  second  Adam,  the  Redeemer  of  men.  How  often  has 
his  paternal  heart  throbbed  with  rapture,  as  he  has  most 
devoutly  repeated,  *  We  dedicate  thee  to  Him,  to  whom 
thou  properly  belongest,  to  be  baptized  with  his  own  bap- 
tism, in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  we  pronounce  upon  thee  that  bless- 
ing, which  He  commanded  his  ministers,  Moses,  Aaron, 
and  his  Sons,  to  pronounce  upon  his  people,  saying.  The 
Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee;  The  Lord  cause  His  face 
to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee;  The  Lord 
lift  up  His  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace. ^ 

The  preacher,  however,  never  surrendered  the  persua- 
sion, that  he  was  sent  out  to  preach  the  gospel,  and  his 
visits  to  his  far  distant  friends  were  frequently  repeated; 
yet  these  visits  were  always  made  by  the  assenting  voice 
of  the  society,  and  he  regarded  every  individual,  congrega- 
ted under  his  directing  auspices,  as  in  an  essential  and  sol- 
emn sense,  his  children.  A  gentleman,  attending  in  tie 
church  in  Bennet-street,  addressing  Mr  Murray  by  letter, 
thus  observes:  '  I  was  very  much  pleasqd  at  your  meeting; 
the  orderly,  respectable,  and  serious  demeanor  of  your  so- 
ciety; their  silent  and  fixed  attention  upon  you,  penetrated 
me  with  sentiments  of  attachment  and  satisfaction,  and  1 
forbore  not  to  invoke  the  providence  of  God,  that  no  fro- 
ward,  or  adverse  spirit,  should  interrupt  the  harmony  which 
now  so  evidently  subsists  between  you.' 

Yes,  it  is  indeed  true,  that  Mr.  Murray  considered  the 
interest  of  the  people  of  his  charge  as  his  own.  Most 
fondly  did  he  cherish,  and  perseveringly  did  he  seek,  by 
every  possible  means,  to  advance  their  reputation.  He 
sympathized  with  the  afflicted,  and  largely  partook  their 
sorrows  ;  while,  so  often  as  the  course  of  events  brought 
joy  to  their  bosoms,  his  eye  beamed  gladness,  and  his 
tongue  exulted  to  dwell  upon  facts,  which  illumined  the 
hours  of  his  protracted  pilgrimage.  His  voice,  at  the  bed 
of  death,  was  the  herald  of  consolation.  Are  there  npt 
uncounted  numbers,  still  passing  on,  in  this  vale  of  tears, 
who,  while  attending  upon  their  expiring  relatives,  have 
witnessed  the  divine  effects  emanating  from  the  luminous 
understanding  of  the  preacher,  and  lighting  up  a  blissful 
smile  of  anticipated  felicity,  amid  the  agonies  of  dissolving 
nature.  To  the  aged  he  delighted  to  administer  consola- 
tion; his  presence  gave  a  face  of  cheerfulness  to  those 
social  hours,  which  the  numerous  classes,  with  whom  he 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  MH 

mingled,  were  wont  to  appropriate  to  enjoyment.  Chil- 
dren lisped  with  infantile  transport  the  name  of  the  phi- 
lanthropic preacher,  and  they  were  even  eloquent  in  ex- 
pressions of  unfeigned  attachment.  The  pleasures  of 
young  people,  if  under  the  dominion  of  innocence,  were 
uniformly  sanctioned  by  their  preacher;  and  his  appear- 
ance in  well-regulated  circles  of  hilarity,  so  far  from 
clouding,  was  always  considered  as  the  harbinger ,  of  high- 
wrought  entertainment.  If  we  except  a  single  instance, 
wo  do  not  know,  that,  through  a  series  of  revolving  years, 
the  harmony  subsisting  between  the  minister  and  his  con- 
gregation, suffered  either  interruption  or  diminution. 
This  instance  originated  in  political  pertinacity.  Party 
spirit  occasionally  ran  very  high;  and  federal  and  demo- 
cratic leaders  were  among  the  adherents  of  Mr.  Murray. 
A  July  Oration  was  to  be  delivered;  much  invidious  dis- 
quisition was  afloat;  but  it  is  fruitless  to  delineate;  suffice 
it  to  say,  that  this  oration,  and  its  consequences,  were 
pregnant  with  anguish  to  an  oft-stricken  heart;  but' bless- 
ed be  God,  the  threatening  aspect  of  affairs,  which  seem- 
ed to  gather  darkness,  was  soon  dispersed,  and  the  sun  of 
righteousness  seemed  to  break  forth,  with  renewed  splen- 
dor. Nor  is  it  wonderful,  that  transient  animosities  exist- 
ed; it  is  rather  astonishing  they  were  not  more  frequent. 
It  was  truly  affecting,  it  was  beautiful,  and  eminently 
consolatory,  to  behold  persons  of  the  warmest  feelings, 
and  strongest  prejudices,  depositing  every  dissenting,  ev- 
ery foreign  sentiment,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  meeting, 
and  mingling  souls,  and  emphatically,  although  tacitly, 
saying  to  every  minor  consideration,  'Tarry  ye  here, 
while  we  go  up  to  worship.' 
Too  soon  have  the  years  of  felicity  fled  away.  They 
.  rise  to  view  like  the  vision  of  some  blissful  era,  which  we 
have  imagined,  not  realized.  Suddenly  we  were  aroused 
from  our  dream  of  security;  the  torpid  hand  of  palsy 
blighted  our  dearest  hopes;  the  Preacher,  the  Head,  the 
Husband,  the  Father,  was  in  a  moment  precipitated  from 
a  state  of  high  health,  and  prostrated  beneath  the  tremen- 
dous stroke  of  the  fell  destroyer. 


21* 


246  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

CHAPTER  Yim  ^tflij^ 

Record  continued  from  October,  1809,  to  September,  1815,^<' 

including  the  closing  scene.  ^ 

Portentously  the  dense,  dark  cloud  arose  ; 

Long  was  the  night;  surcharged  with  clust'ring  woes; 

But,  blest  Religion^  robed  in  spotless  white,  ,,,  ^ 

With  torch  of  faith,  pointing  to  realms  of  light, 

Marched  splendid  on  ;  wide  o'er  the  brightening  way,  *■*; 

Leading  the  saint  to  never-ending  day.  <>),■ 

It  was  upon  the  nineteenth  day  of  October,  one  thou-vo 
sand  eight  hundred  and  nine,  that  the  fatal  blow  was  giv- 
en to  a  life  so  valuable,  so  greatly  endeared,  so  truly  pre- 
cious; but,  although  the  corporeal  powers  of  the  long 
a»jtive  preacher  became  so  far  useless,  as  to  render  him  as 
helpless  as  a  new-born  babe;  although  he  was  indeed  a 
complete  cripple,  yet  the  saint  still  lingered;  was  still  de- 
tained by  the  all-wise  decree  of  the  Most  High,  a  prisoner 
in  his  clay-built  tenement,  nor  did  his  complete  beatifica- 
tion take  place  until  the  Sabbath  morning  of  September 
8d,  lacking  only  a  few  days  of  six  complete  years.  Yet 
was  his  patience,  so  far  as  we  have  known,  unexampled. 
No  murmur  against  the  inflictions  of  Heaven  escaped  his 
lips;  praises  of  his  paternal  Creator  were  still  found  upon 
his  tongue,  and  the  goodness  of  his  God  continued  his  en- 
during theme.  Unwavering  in  his  testimony,  he  repeat- 
edly, and  most  devoutly,  said :  '  No  man  on  earth  is  under 
so  many  obligations  to  Almighty  God  as  myself;  yes,  I 
will  adore  the  great  source  of  Being  so  long  as  I  shall  ex- 
ist, and  every  faculty  of  my  soul  shall  bless  my  redeeming 
Creator.'  Yet,  it  is  true,  that  when  the  once  cheerful 
sabbath  bells  vibrated  upon  his  ear,  he  would  frequently 
lift  towards  heaven  a  humid  eye,  and  mournfully  articu- 
late :  '  Alas !  alas !  it  is  not  with  me  as  heretofore,  when 
I  could  hear  the  tribes  devoutly  say,  '  Up,  Israel,  to  the 
temple  haste,  and  keep  this  festal  day:'  Soon,  however, 
his  mind  was  hushed  to  peace,  by  calm  and  firm  confi- 
dence in  his  God,  and  he  would  add — '  Well,  well,  when 
I  awake  in  thy  likeness,  I  shall  be  satisfied.  We  are  asleep 
in  the  present  state;  we  are  asleep  in  the  likeness  of  the 
earthy  man;  all  our  uneasy  sensations  are  unpleasant 
dreams.  Pleasures,  derived  from  mere  terrestrial  enjoy- 
inents,  detached  from  intellect,  are  also  dreams,  and,  like 
the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision  shall  not  leave  a  wreck  be- 
kind.  But  if  my  life  have  been  a  continued  sleep,  and 
the  greater  part  of  my  pains,  and  pleasures,  dreams;  yet, 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  347 

while  this  deep  sleejwhas  been  upon  me,  the  Almighty  hath 
instructed  me;  yes/  blessed  be  His  name,  the  roof  of  His 
mouth  is  as  the  best  wine, which  goeth  down  sweetly,  causing 
the  lips  of  those  who  are  asleep  to  speak.  O!  for  more  of 
this  best  wine,  that  my  lips  may  show  forth  his  praise,  that 
I   may  drink  and  forget  all  sorrow.' 

Thus  was  the  tenor  of  his  mind  generally  acquiescent, 
and  his  impatience  to  be  gone  was  frequently  subdued,  by 
'^  an  operative  conviction  of  the  sovereign  wisdom,  as  well 
•as  paternal  love,  of  Deity.  His  bible  was  his  constant 
companion.  Seated  by  his  affectionate  assistant,  in  his 
easy  chair,  and  the  book  of  God  opened  before  him,  the 
man  of  patience,  during  six  succeeding  years,  passed  the 
long  summer  mornings  from  the  sun's  early  beams,  in  exam- 
ining and  re-examining  the  will  of  his  august  Father. 
He  had,  through  a  long  life,  been  conversant  with  a  va- 
riety of  English  authors.  Poets,  dramatic  writers,  essay- 
ists, and  historians,  were  familiar  to  him;  he  took  great 
delight  in  perusing  them;  but,  travelling  through  those 
multiplied  pages,  might  be  termed  his  excursions,  while 
the  sacred  volume  was  his  intellectual  home.  Many 
hours  in  every  day  were  devoted  to  the  attentive  perusal 
of  the  scriptures,  and  yet  his  sentiments  were  unvaried; 
not  a  single  feature  of  the  system,  he  had  so  long  advoca- 
ted, was  changed. 

Mr.  Murray  was  fond  of  calling  himself  the  Lord's 
prisoner;  and  he  would  add,  I  am,  by  consequence,  a 
prisoner  of  hope.  During  his  confinement  many  respect- 
able gentlemen,  clergymen  in  Boston,  visited  him.  One  or 
two  repeated  their  visits,  and  they  apparently  regarded  the 
now  white-haired  servant  of  God  with  kindness  and  respect. 
0ne  clergyman  questioned  him  respecting  his  then  pres- 
ent views,  wishing  to  be  ascertained  if  his  faith  were  still 
ifi  exercise,  if  he  were  willing  to  depart, '  O  yes,  yes,  yes,' 
exclaimed  the  long-illumined  christian, '  the  glorious  mani- 
festations of  divine  love  still  brighten  upon  me.  .Right 
precious  to  my  soul  are  the  promises,  the  oath  of  Jeho- 
vah; and,  sir,  so  far  from  shrinking  from  my  approach- 
ing change,  my  only  struggle  is  for  patience  to  abide,  un- 
til the  time  appointed  for  my  emancipation.  I  would  cul- 
tivate a  humble,  child-like  resignation;  but  hope  deferred, 
doth  indeed  too  often  make  the  heart  sick.'  Another  gen- 
tleman congratulated  him  on  his  apparent  convalescence. — 
'Oh!  sir,'  he  returned,  'the  voice  of  gladness  suits  not  my 
present  feelings;  it  is,  as  if,  when  I  believed,  I  was  voyag- 
ing to  my  native  shores,  where  health,  happiness,  and 
peace  awaited  me,  borne  onwards  by  gales  the  most  pro- 


SElik  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY* 

pitiouSj  and  supposing  myself  almost  «in  the  moment  of' 
obtaining  the  long  desired  haven,  when  suddenly  driven- 
back  by  some  adverse  circumstance,  instead  of  being 
soothed  by  condolence,  I  am  pierced  to  the  soul  by  the  dis- 
cordant sounds  of  felicitations.'  Yet,  we  repeat,  the  re- 
vered teacher  was  in  general  astonishingly  patient,  resign- 
ed, and  even  cheerflil.  He  was  frequently  heard  to  say, 
that  he  had  experienced,  in  the  course  of  his  confinement, 
more  of  the  abundant  goodness  of  his  God,  than  through 
the  whole  of  his  preceding  life;  and  those,  most  conver- 
sant with  him,  could  not  forbear  observing,  that  the  pro- 
tracted period  which  would  in  prospect  have  risen  to  the 
eye  with  a  most  melancholy,  if  not  terrific  aspect,  taken 
as  a  whole,  exhibited  the  saint  more  equal,  calm,  and  dig- 
nified, than  any  other  six  years  of  his  existence.  A  re- 
spectable gentleman,  not  of  his  persuasion,  but  candid 
and  benign,  remarked,  that  his  character  was  elevated  to 
no  common  height;  that  his  uncomplaining  endurance  of 
suffering,  and  the  unwavering  steadfastness  of  his  faith, 
had  stamped  his  testimony  with  the  seal  of  integrity,  and 
gave  that  confirmation  to  his  confidence  in  his  own  views 
of  sacred  writ,  which  could  not  fail  of  rejoicing  the  hearts 
of  his  adherents. 

The  chamber  of  adversity  was  occasionally  illuminec. 
by  the  presence  oi  2i  few  fast  friends ;  and  one  sympathiz- 
ing, kind-hearted,  affectionate  brother  was  so  uniform  in 
his  appearance,  with  the  close  of  every  week,  that  we 
might  almost  have  designated  the  day,  and  the  hour  of  the 
evening,  by  his  approaches.  Nor  was  the  demise  of  his 
teacher  the  period  of  his  kindness;  his  countenance,  his 
aid,  his  commisseration,  his  society,  are  still  loaned  to  the 
solitary,  the  bereaved  family.  Dear  faithful  man!  May 
the  rich  blessings  of  Almighty  God  rest  upon  thee  and 
thine,  until  thou  hast  finished  thy  mortal  career,  and  may- 
est  thou,  in  the  regions  of  blessedness,  renew,  with  thy  be- 
loved teacher,  that  friendship  which,  while  tenanted  in 
clay,  thou   hast  so  well  known  to  appreciate. 

To  three  other  gentlemen,  devoted  adherents  to  the  la- 
mented deceased,  warm  acknowledgments  are,  also,  most 
righteously  due.  Their  kind,  and  still  continued  atten- 
tions, are  gratifying  proof  of  their  attachment  to  him,  who 
was  so  dear  to  them,  and  gratitude  hath,  with  mournful 
alacrity,  reared  her  altars  in  the  bosoms  of  the  widow,  and 
the  fatherless. 

Some  strange  occurrences  were  noted,  which  filled  the 
heart  of  the  venerable  man  of  God  with  sorrow,  unutter 
able  sorrow.     Every  thing  seemed  to  point  homeward  to 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  24^ 

the  sky,  and  upon  Lord's  day  morning,  August  twenty- 
seventh,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifteen,  at  four 
o'clock,  an  especial  summons  was  despatched  by  the  Most 
High,  to  recall  his  long-tried  servant;  but  alas!  we  did  not 
recognize  the  messenger;  we  rather  believed,  that  the  cir- 
cumstances, which  marked  the  acknowledged  change, 
would  look  with  a  friendly  aspect  upon  the  health  of  the 
beloved  man,  during  the  succeeding  autumn  and  winter; 
but  the  honored  sufferer  himself,  apparently  better  in- 
formed, anticipatingly  observed — '  Who  knows,  perhaps 
the  liberating  hour  is  at  hand;'  and  his  feelings  were  al- 
ways elated  or  depressed,  in  exact  proportion  as  the  mo- 
ment of  his  departure  seemed  to  advance  or  [recede.  The 
progress  of  the  new  disease  was  astonishingly  rapid.  A 
physician  was  summoned,  who  permitted  the  indulgence 
of  hope.  On  Tuesday,  29th,  his  complaints  evidently 
abated,  insomuch,  that  while  the  features  of  his  strongly 
marked  face  expressed  the  deepest  mortification,  he  trem- 
ulously exclaimed,  *  Am  I  then  once  more  thrown  back, 
the  melancholy  subject  of  alternate  hope  and  fear.?'  On 
Wednesday,  every  symptom  increased,  he  obtained  little 
rest,  and  hope  manifestly  triumphed  in  his  bosom.  Anoth- 
er physician  was  called  in,  whose  doubtful  answers  to 
proposed  questions  created  much  alarm.  He  seemed  to 
consider  nature  as  surrendering  her  ofiices.  In  the  course 
of  Thursday,  31st,  he  repeatedly  and  earnestly  said,  '  I 
cannot  be  sufficiently  thankful  to  God,  my  Saviour,  that 
I  suffer  no  pain,  either  of  body  or  mind.'  To  a  young 
and  tenderly  interested  friend,  he  smilingly  observed,  *  I 
am  hastening  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death; 
I  am  about  to  quit  this  distempered  state;  yet  a  little  mo- 
ment and  I  shall  (be  received  into  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  with  the  innumerable  company  of  the  apostles,  and 
spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  I  shall  continue  for- 
ever in  the  presence  of  my  divine  Master.' 

His  family  solicited  his  blessing.  '  You  are  blessed,' 
he  replied,  '  you  are  blessed  with  all  spiritual  blessings  in 
Christ  Jesus;  and,  remember,'  he  added,  fixing  his  dying 
eyes  upon  them,  '  remember,  that,  however,  tried  in  this 
world,  there  is  another  and  a  better  state  of  thmgs;  and 
that,  although  pierced  in  this  vale  of  tears  by  the  arrows 
of  unkindness  and  ingratitude,  there  is  One  who  loveth 
you,  with  an  everlasting  love,  and  who  will  never  leave 
you  nor  forsake  you.' 

On  Friday  morning,  September  1st,  some  expressions 
gave  positive  proof  of  his  sanity;  but  as  the  day  advanced, 
his  derangement  was  supposed  unquestionable,  and  from 


250  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

this  hour,  until  Saturday  evening,  a  little  after  sunset,  he 
continued,  with  few  intervals,  incoherently  repeating  the 
most  consolatory  passages  in  the  book  of  God.  His  right 
hand  was  constantly  in  motion,  and  when  any  one  ap- 
proached, whatever  might  be  the  question,  the  answer 
was  ready.  '  To  Him,'  said  the  expiring  christian, 
'  shall  the  gathering  of  the  people  be,  and  His  rest  shall  be 
glorious,  glorious,  glorious.  1  am  blessed  with  all  spiritual 
blessings,  in  Christ  Jesus.  Nor  I  alone,  Christ  Jesus 
hath  tasted  death  for  every  man,'*  &c.  &c.  These  God 
honoring,  man-restoring  truths,  were  audibly  »»rticulated, 
while  voice  and  strength  continued;  and  when  speaking 
only  in  a  whisper,  to  the  listening  ear  applied  to  his  moving 
lips,  it  was  ascertained  that  the  same  consolatory  assurances 
still  dwelt  upon  his  tongue.  Was  this  delirium?  or,  if  it 
were,  was  it  not  a  delirium  irradiated  by  the  powerful  in- 
fluence of  redeeming  love?  Did  not  the  luminous  truths, 
upon  which  the  noble,  the  capacious  mind,  had  so  long  re- 
posed, beam  refulgent  over  the  scattering  fragments,  then 
dissolving,  which  had  for  a  term  of  more  than  seventy 
years,  embodied  the  immortal  tenant? 

Almost  immediately  after  sunset,  on  Saturday  evening, 
he  ceased  to  speakj  his  right  hand  no  longer  waved,  and  he 
continued  in  the  same  position,  in  which  the  enduring  kind- 
ness of  his  faithful  assistant  had  placed  him,  until  six  o'clock, 
Lord's-day  morning,  September  third,  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  fifteen;  when,  without  a  sigh,  or  a  struggle,  or 
a  single  distortion  of  countenance,  he  expired.  His  long 
imprisoned  spirit  escaped  to  the  God  who  gave  it. 

It  did  not  appear,  through  the  whole  of  Friday  and  Sat- 
urday, that  he  suffered  the  least  pain  except  when  an  at- 
tempt was  made  to  move  him.  His  breath  grew  shorter, 
and  shorter  like  the  sweet  sleep  of  a  tired  infant,  until  it 
could  no  more  be  distinguished.  He  departed  this  life  in 
the  seventy-fifth  year  of  his  age. 

Sacred  be  the  scene  which  immediately  succeeded.  We 
do  not  wish — we  attempt  not  to  lift  the  veil;  but  we  exult 
in  the  conviction,  that  we  shall  ere  long,  follow  the  eman- 
cipated spirit  to  the  abodes  of  blessedness. 

The  interment  could  be  deferred  only  until  Monday 
evening,  September  4th.  The  ebbing  attachment  of  cer- 
tain individuals  now  reverted  to  its  pristine  channel. 
Funeral  honors  were  promtly  and  unanimously  decreed. 
The  children  of  the  society,  distinguished  by  a  badge  of 
mourning,  preceded  the  body;  along  solemn,  well  ordered 
and  respectable  procession  followed  the  train  of  mourners; 
private  carriages  were  added  to  those  appointed  by  the 


LIFK   Of   &EV.   JOHN   MURRAY,  $51 

society  ;  the  body  was  deposited  upon  stands  in  the  aisle 
of  the  church  j  the  pulpit  and  galleries  were  hung  with 
black;  religious  exercises  were  performed;  when  it  was 
entombed  with  the  ashes  of  those  to  whom  he  had  been 
fondly  attached.  Every  thing,  which  immediately  referred 
to  the  sacred,  the  individual  remains  of  the  deceased,  was 
liberally  provided  by  the  religious  adherents  of  the  pro- 
mulgator, and  the  arrears  which  would  have  been  due  to 
the  family,  had  the  vote  of  March,  1815,  been  similamo 
that  of  March  1814,  were  paid  to  a  single  farthing. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Conclusion. 
'  And  now  the  feverish  dream  of  life  is  o'er.' 

Had  we  talents,  we  would  exhibit  a  portrait  of  the 
deceased:  But,  besides,  that  we  feel  ourselves  inadequate 
to  a  task  so  arduous,  we  are  not  perfectly  convinced  of 
its  propriety.  Friendship  might  be  too  warm,  and  admi- 
ration too  lavish.  His  colleague  has  been  his  eulogist, 
and  no  friend  of  the  deceased  will  pronounce  the 
panegyric  an  exaggeration.  Perhaps  it  does  not  contain 
a  more  just,  or  a  more  happy  paragraph  than  the  follow- 
ing: '  Without  a  second  to  aid  him,  you  saw  him  pass 
along  these  shores  from  Maryland  to  New  Hampshire, 
like  the  lonely  Pelican  0/  the  wilderness,  publishing  as 
with  the  voice  of  an  angel,  the  tidings  of  everlasting  life  to 
the  whole  world,  in  the  name,  and  through  the  mission  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,* 

It  has  been  said  that  persuasion  dwelt  upon  the  lips  of 
our  philanthropist.  The  pages  of  recollection  furnish 
many  instances  of  his  powerful,  and  soul-subduing  elo- 
quence. We  are  impelled  to  select,  from  the  fading 
record,  two  facts  which  are  well  authenticated : — 

A  London  mob  had  assembled  in  great  force,  with  the 
most  destructive  and  murderous  designs.  Time-honored 
edifices  were  to  be  demolished,  and  the  weapons  of  death  to 
be  pointed  at  the  most  valuable  lives.  This  scene  of  riot  was 
exhibited  during  the  troubles  relative  to  Mr.  Wilkes;  all  was 
tumult  and  tremendous  uproar;  an  attempt  at  reasoning 
was  stifled  by  outrageous  clamor;  the  efforts  of  peace 
officers  were  fruitless,  and  the  military  was  on  the  point 
of  being  called  into  action,  when  Mr.  Murray,  returning 


252  LIPE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

from  some  religious  meeting  to  his  peaceful  home,  lound 
himself  in  the  midst  of  the  infuriated  rioters,  and  instantly 
mounting  a  stand,  which  opportunely  presented,  he  har- 
rangued  the  lawless  multitude  ;  and  by  soothing  their 
prejudices,  addressing  their  passions,  and  pointing  out  the 
only  legitimate  steps  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  redress, 
he  first  obtained  silence,  next  softened  and  ameliorated 
their  passions,  and  finally  dispersed  without  mischief  a  most 
enraged  populace.  A  nobleman,  seizing  him  by  the  hand, 
impressively  said,  *  Young  man,  I  thank  you;  I  am  ignorant 
of  your  name,  but  I  bear  testimony  to  your  wonderful  abili- 
ties. By  your  exertions,  much  blood  and  treasure  have  this 
night  been  saved.' 

The  second  instance  which  we  present  is  nearer  home. 
A  motion  was  made  in  the  legislature  of  a  sister  state,  then 
province,  to  raise  a  sum  of  money  for  the  relief  of  the  Bos- 
tonians,  suffering  from  the  severe  decrees  of  a  British  min- 
istry. Mr.  Murray  attended  the  debates;  the  motion  was 
seconded,  and  supported,  with  spirit  and  judgment,  and  it 
was  opposed  with  some  violence,  and  little  reason.  It  was 
put  to  vote,  and  lost  by  a  majority  of  twelve  persons;  Mr. 
Murray's  particular  adherents  voting  against  it.  It  hap- 
pened he  was,  on  that  day  to  dine  at  the  house  of  a  Doctor 

B ,  one  of  the   triumphant    majority,   with   several 

gentlemen  on  the  same  side  of  the  question,  when  his  pow- 
erful animadversions,  and  reasoning  upon  the  subject, 
wrought  so  great  a  revolution,  as  to  produce  a  reconsidera- 
tion of  the  vote,  and  the  motion  for  succoring  the  Bostoni- 
ans,  passed  by  a  majority  of  nine  persons. 

Mr.  Murray  has  been  accused  of  licentious  opinions  and 
practices.  His  letters  to  his  friends  would  fill  many  vol- 
umes; addressed  to  the  private  ear  of  those  he  best  loved, 
they  ought  to  decide  upon  his  opinions;  and,  for  his  life, 
perhaps  no  man  of  abilities  so  stinted  was  ever  a  greater 
blessing  to  mankind.  We  indulge  ourselves  with  giving 
one  letter,  written  to  the  son  of  a  most  intimate  friend : — 

'  You  are  placed  at  school  for  two  purposes;  the  im- 
provement of  your  understanding,  and  the  formation  of  vir- 
tuous principles.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  improve- 
ment of  the  heart  is  esteemed  by  those  to  whom  you  are 
most  dear,  beyond  the  most  cultivated  intellect.  It  is  your 
business  to  unite  these  estimable  objects,  your  heart  and 
understanding  should  be  emulous  in  pursuit  of  excellence. 
Ethics,  improved  and  elevated  by  the  christian  religion,  be- 
come the  guides  to  real  wisdom  and  solid  happiness;  these 
they  could  never  have  attained  in  the  schools  of  heathen 
philosophy.     It  is  not  expected  that  you  should  thus  early 


LIFE    or    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  258 

be  engaged  in  the  profound  disquisitions  of  theology.  The 
plain  doctrines  of  the  religion,  which  it  is  hoped  you  will 
profess,  have  been  explained  to  you ;  but  the  principal  bu- 
siness is  to  open  your  heart  for  the  reception  of  those  sen- 
timents and  principles,  which  will  conduce  to  the  direction 
of  your  actions,  in  the  employments  and  engagements  of 
your  subsequent  life.  Permit  me,  however,  to  remind  you 
of  the  necessity  of  reading  the  scriptures,  that  is,  of  drinking 
the  sacred  waters  at  the  fountain  head.  But,  to  read  the 
scriptures  with  advantage,  judgment  is  necessary,  and  as 
your  judgment  is  not  yet  matured,  you  must  submit  to  the 
direction  of  your  instructers.  The  plainest,  and  most  per- 
spicuous passages  will,  for  the  present,  best  deserve  and  re- 
ward your  attention.  The  historical  parts  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament will  entertain  you,  if  you  consider  them  only  in  a 
classical  point  of  view,  as  valuable  passages  of  ancient  his- 
tory; but  I  would  call  your  attention  more  immediately  to 
the  books  which  are  most  replete  with  moral  instruction, 
such  as  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  the  Wisdom  of  the  Son 
of  Sirach,  and  the  admirable  book  entitled,  Ecclesiasticus. 
I  trust  the  time  will  come,  when  the  prophecies  will  most 
pleasingly  instruct  you;  at  present  you  will  peruse  them 
for  the  poetical  beauties,  which  they  confessedly  [display. 
Isaiah  vabounds  with  fine  passages  of  this  description,  and 
Jeremiah  is  by  no  means  deficient  in  this  line.  You  have 
no  doubt  read  Pope's  Messiah,  and  could  not  but  have 
observed,  that  its  most  pleasing  imagery  is  selected  from 
Isaiah.  If  you  read  the  Old  Testament  with  a  taste  for  its 
beauties,  you  will  accomplish  two  important  purposes;  you 
will  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Bible,  which  is  your 
duty,  and  you  will  improve  your  taste  and  judgment.  The 
New  Testament  requires  the  attention  of  every  one,  who 
professes  himself  a  christian.  You  must  read  it  witih  that 
humility,  which  becomes  a  finite  being,  but  more  particular- 
ly a  young  person;  you  will  do  well  to  pay  especial  at- 
tention to  the  sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  to  that  admirable 
epitome  of  all  moral  philosophy,  the  rule  of  doing  to 

OTHERS,  AS  WE  WOULD  THEY  SHOULD    DO  UNTO  US.       If  yOU 

pay  due  obedience  to  this  precept,  you  will  never  hesitate 
in  determining  what  part  you  are,  upon  every  occasion,  to 
act.  It  is  proper  you  should  familiarize  your  mind  to  the 
language  of  scripture;  although  you  niay  not  fully  com- 
prehend the  sacred  writings,  you  will  thus  treasure  up  in 
your  memory  many  useful  passages,  which  may  become  in 
future  highly  consolatory.  An  early  acquaintance  with  the 
letter  of  the  old  and  new  testaments,  has  been  found  sub- 
stantial props  through  len^:thening  years;  but  alf  this,  my 


254  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

dear  young  friend,  will  avail  but  little,  unless  you  add 
thereto  prayer  and  praise.  Make  it  therefore  a  rule,  never 
to  be  violated,  to  pray  night  and  morning.  The  Redeemer, 
while  clothed  in  humanity,  earnestly  and  fervently  address- 
ed the  Deity ;  forget  not,  therefore,  to  offer  your  private 
addresses  to  the  Father  of  your  spirit,  at  retiring  to  rest, 
and  with  the  early  dawn.  Your  age  is^the  age  of  inadver- 
tance;  you  enjoy  health,  and  you  are  a  stranger  to  the 
cares  of  the  world.  Cheerfulness  does  indeed  become  you, 
but  let  me  pray  you  to  consider  the  value  of  time,  and  the 
importance  of  appropriating  it  to  wisdom.  Consider  your 
parents;  the  anxiety  they  experience  upon  your  account; 
most  ardently  do  they  desire  your  improvement.  Laudably 
ambitious,  they  are  solicitous  that  you  should  be  emi- 
nent, in  whatever  profession  or  employment  you  may  be 
destined  to  engage.  To  see  you  contemptible,  would  fill 
them  with  the  extreme  of  anguish;  and,  trust  me,  nothing 
will  rescue  you  from  contempt,  but  individual  merit,  a  good 
disposition^  adorned  by  literature,  and  embellished  by  the 
lighter  accomplishments,  and  especially  elevated  by  Chris- 
tianity. Your  parents  have  labored  indefatigably,  to  pro- 
mote you;  but  it  remains  with  yourself  to  give  success  to 
their  endeavors.  The  mind  is  not  like  a  vessel,  into'which 
we  may  pOur  any  good  quality,  whatever  the  director  may 
choose;  it  is  rather  like  a  plant,  which,  by  the  operation  of 
its  own  internal  powers,  imbibes  the  nutriment  afforded  by 
the  earth.  I  repeat;  it  is  certain,  that  instructers  can  serve 
you  only  in  conjunction  with  your  own  efforts.  Let  me 
then  entreat  you  to  exert  yourself,  if  you  have  any  regard 
for  those  parents,  whose  happiness  so  much  depends  upon 
your  conduct;  if  you  have  any  regard  for  your  own  honor, 
felicity,  and  prosperity;  if  you  hope  to  be  useful,  and  res- 
pected in  society; 

'  Always  consider  me  as  your  friend  and  servant, 
JOHN  MURRAY.' 
If  the  testimony  of  respectable  contemporaries;  of  men 
who  disdained  flattery,  and  whose  judgment  was  unques- 
tionable; who  delighted  to  address  our  departed  friend  in 
the  strains  of  panegyric — if  these  vouchers  were  permitted 
to  decide  in  his  favor,  we  could  produce  a  cloud  of  witness- 
es. We  content  ourselves  with  a  few  extracts,  from  the 
many  letters  which  might  be  produced.  General  Greene 
thus  writes:  'You  may  remember,  I  promised  you  a  letter 
at  the  close  of  every  campaign.  Had  I  the  tongue  of  a 
Murray  to  proclaim,  or  the  pen  of  a  Robertson  to  record, 
the  occurrences  of  this  campaign  should  be  delineated  to 
the  honor  of  America.     The  Monmouth  battle,  and  the  ac- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  255 

tion  upon  Rhode-Island,  were  no  small  triumphs  to  us,  who 
had  so  often  been  necessitated  to  turn  our  backs.  To  be- 
hold our  fellows,  chasing  the  British  off  the  field  of  battle, 
afforded  a  pleasure,  which  you  can  better  conceive,  than  1 
describe.  If,  my  dear  Murray,  I  had  before  been  an  unbe- 
liever, I  have  had  sufficient  evidence  of  the  intervention  of 
Divine  Providence,  to  reclaim  me  from  infidelity :  my 
heart,  I  do  assure  you,  overflows  with  gratitude  to  Him, 
whose  arm  is  mightier  than  all  the  Princes  of  the  earth. 
In  the  midst  of  difficulties,  and  I  have  encountered  many, 
my  heart  reverts  to  you;  were  you  addressing  me  from  the 
pulpit,  you  could  convince  me  that  considering  the  world 
to  which  I  am  hastening,  I  have  not  the  least  cause  of  com- 
plaiiit — I  sigh  for  an  opportunity  of  listening  to  the  music 
of  your  voice. 

'  Are  you  and  the  priests  upon  any  better  terms?  Or 
are  they  as  mad  with  you  as  ever.''  Well,  go  on,  and  pros- 
per, and  may  God  bless  you  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.' 
Again,  General  Greene  writes:  'It  is,  my  de^r  sir,  a  long 
time  since  you  and  I  have  had  a  friendly  meeting.  God  only 
knows  when  we  shall  be  thus  blest.  It  is  impossible  for  me 
to  give  you  an  adequate  idea  of  the  distress  of  the  once 
happy  people  of  New  Jersey;  I  know  your  fancy  is  lively, 
and  your  genius  fertile;  give  your  faculties  full  scope,  in 
drawing  a  picture,  and  it  will  still  fall  far  short  of  the  origi- 
nal. How  greatly  would  you  be  pained  were  you  present; 
you  who  sympathize  with  every  thing  in  distress,  and  feel 
and  share  the  miseries  of  all  around  you.  Oh,  my  dear 
friend,  may  God  preserve  you  from  such  complicated  dis- 
tress. Soon  after  you  left  me  upon  Long  Island,  I  was 
seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  sickness;  my  restoration  was  un- 
expected, but  my  health  is  now  confirmed.  Oh  what  would 
I  give  for  a  few  hours  uninterrupted  conversation  with  our 
dear  Murray.  I  beseech  you  to  visit  Mrs.  Greene  in  Coven- 
try.' One  more  extract  from  the  letters  of  General  Greene 
shall  suffice.  '  Once  more,  on  the  close  of  the  campaign,  I 
am  to  announce  to  my  very  dear  friend,  that  I  am  still  an 
inhabitant  of  this  globe.  We  have  had  a  hard  and  bloody 
campaign,  yet  we  ought  rather  to  dwell  upon  the  mercies 
we  have  received,  than  to  repine  because  they  are  not  great- 
er. But  man  is  a  thankless  creature :  yet  you,  dear  Murray, 
know,  that  the  mercies  of  God  are  happily  proportioned  to 
our  weakness.  Retired  to  winter  quarters,  the  social  pas- 
sionsi  once  more  kindled  into  life.  Love  and  friendship 
triumph  over  the  heart,  and  the  sweet  pleasure  of  domestic 
happiness,  call  to  remembrance  my  once  happy  circle  of 
friends,  in  which  you,  my  dear  Sir,  appear  in  the  first  rank. 


^. 


256  LIFE    OF    REV%    JOHN    MURRAY. 

My  friendship  for  you  is  indeed  of  the  warmest  description. 
My  attachment  was  not  hastily  formed,  and  it  will  not  easily 
be  relinquished,  learly  admired  your  talents;  your  mor- 
als have  earned  my  esteem;  and  neither  distance  nor  cir- 
cumstances will  diminish  my  affection.' 

The  subjoined  extracts  are  from  letters  written  by  a 
gentleman  of  high  respectability,  in  the  mercantile,  litera- 
ry, and  christian  world.  The  first  extract  is  from  a  letter, 
soliciting  a  visit  from  the  preacher. 

'The  grand  the  glorious  expedition,  in  which  you  are 
engaged,  to  disseminate  truth,  and  knowledge;  the  assur- 
ances we  can  give  you  how  little  is  known  here,  and  how 
eagerly  it  is  wished,  that  the  ways  of  God  to  man  should  be 
made  manifest,  will,  I  trust  induce  you  to  make  an  exer- 
tion in  our  behalf.  My  ardent  prayer  is  for  your  life,  and 
health.  The  harvest  truly  is  great,  but  the  laborers  are 
few;  yet  I  trust  in  God,  that  the  beams  of  light  will  irradi- 
ate this  benighted  world,  and  that  he  will  accelerate  that 
eternal  day,  when  the  Son  shall  give  up  the  kingdom  to 
the  Father,  and  God  shall  be  all  in  all.' 

You  solicit  me  to  write;  my  writing  can  afford  yo;i  no 
nov^elty,  for  what  intellectual  ground  is  there  that  you  have 
not  trod  or  that  I  can  mark  out,  which  you  have  not  be- 
fore observed.  I  am  wearied  with  reiterated  reflection, 
and  I  pant  for  that  sky,  where  I  may  range  without  con- 
finement. The  simple  truths  of  the  gospel  pleaso  me  much. 
I  rest  in  confidence  that  Clirist  died  for  me,  rose  again  for 
my  justificatibn,  and  will  make  me  completely  blessed;  that 
I  am  essentially  united  to,  and  a  part  of  that  nature,  which 
pervades  all  space,  and  a  spark  of  that  fire,  that  sh  ill  es- 
cape to  heaven,  its  native  seat.  I  recollect  your  |  reach- 
ing with  pleasure,  and  I  bless  God  for  the  light  he  has  been 
pleased  to  convey  to  my  mind,  through  your  instrumentali- 
ty; may  your  labors  be  blessed  with  success;  but  I  predict 
the  genuine  gospel  laborers  will  be  but  few.  Poor  man! 
you  must  stand  singly  opposed,  without  human  aid:  be 
persuaded  that  the  conflict  will  be  inferior  to  your  strength. 
I  really  despise  the  world,  for  their  treatment  of  you;  but 
you  know  who  says,  '  Be  of  good  cheer  I  have  overcome  the 
world.''  What  mildness  was  there  in  the  majesty  of  the 
person  of  the  Redeemer!  He'  could  have  been  no  other 
than  the  Deity,  enrobed  in  a  mantle  of  flesh.  I  venerate 
the  liberal,  the  magnanimous  principles  of  your  general  and 
your  colonel;  and  1  love  them  for  their  friendship  for  you, 
and  the  estimation  in  which  they  hold  you.  It  is  so  rare 
to  meet  with  liberal  and  enlarged  minds,  that  when  I  do, 
I  exult   at  the  discovery,  and  my  soul  leaps  to  embrace 


LIFE    OP    REV.    JOHU    MURKAT.  5167 

them.  Should  you  have  a  vacant  moment,  you  will  do 
well  to  fill  it,  by  writing  to  us  your  children.' 

Never  my  dear  Murray,  can  I  forget  you,  while  mem- 
ory holds  her  seat  in  this  benighted  vale.  The  impres- 
sions are  too  lasting  to  be  effaced,  and  so  deeply  are  they 
marked  together,  that  when  the  ideas  of  the  great  redemp- 
tion arise  in  my  mind,  those  of  Relly  and  Murray,  are  in- 
seperable  therefrom,  as  the  mediums  through  which  sub- 
lime truth  beamed  upon  my  soul.  I  am  desirous  of  antici- 
pating that  adult  age,  you  so  beautifully  describe,  when 
knowledge  shall  be  conveyed,  not  by  the  obstructed  tongue 
or  tardy  pen,  but  by  intuition.  But  my  dear  Sir,  you  must 
wait  till  that  expected  day,  before  I  can  tell  you  how  much 
I  esteem,  how  much  I  love  you.  Among  a  number  of 
things  you  have  taught  me,  I  reckon  it  not  the  least,  that 
the  disposal  of  human  affairs  is  in  the  direction  of  a  Being 
whose  o))erations  will  always  produce  the  best  consequen- 
ces. I,  however,  find  it  difficult  to  suppress  the  indigna- 
tion I  feel  at  th^' treatment  you  receive.  What  shall  cure 
these  distempered  minds?  what  shall  compose  the  tumult 
of  their  frenzy,  or  rouse  their  feverish  repose?  Not  the 
skill  of  an  Isaiah,  nor  the  prayers  of  a  Paul ;  nothing  short 
of  the  prescription  of  the  grand  Physician,  who  is  the  Healer 
of  the  Nations,  and  the  application  of  that  tree,  whose 
leaf  is  for  medicine.  My  wishes  for  you  in  this  case  are 
vaiuj  but  I  can  iiever  appreciate  the  aspirations  of  my 
heart}  not  that  you  may  be  exempt  from  the  conflict,  but 
that  you  may  conquer,  and  you  will  conquer;  your  re- 
ward is  above,  secure  from  the  rage  of  impotent  man,  and 
the  invasion  of  the  grand  adversary  of  human  nature.' 

'  To  be  possessed  of  your  confidence  and  friendship, 
would  be  flattering  to  me  in  the  highest  degree.  My  wish- 
es are  to  deserve  both.  You  do  indeed  appear  to  me  a  chosen 
*  07ie  an  elect  soul.  Call  these  expressions  extravagant,  if 
you  please,  but  they  are  as  far  short  of  what  I  feel,  as  lan- 
guage is  inadequate  to  the  expressions  of  the  refined  taste 
of  the  mind.' 

'  Among  the  almost  innumerable  systems,  respecting  our 
nature,  being,  and  our  end,  in  which  the  world  has  been  so 
perplexed,  and  have  exposed  themselves  so  variously,  none 
claims  so  fair  a  title  to  truth  as  the  one  you  promulgate. 
But  the  world  have  not  so  liberally  attributed  goodness  to 
Deity.  Our  benignant  religion  developes  the  goodness  of 
God  in  the  enlightening  su«,  thfc  fructifying  rain,  the 
cheering  wine,  and  the  nutritious  bread;  in  short,  in  a 
thousand  million  examples,  with  which  nature  so  liberally 
abounds.  Indeed,  we  should  seldom  be  unhappy,  did  we 
22* 


358  LIFB    OF   REV.    JOHN   MVRBAY. 

more  constantly  realize  the  presence  of  a  redeeming  God. 
1  admire  the  candor  of  your  mind,  which  is  ever  stepping 
forth,  as  the  advocate  of  your  friends,  although  I  may  occa- 
sionally drop  from  that  stand  in  your  friendship,  which  it 
would  be  my  pride  to  maintain:  it  is  a  persuasion,  which  I 
can  never  relinquish,  that  the  wanderings  of  my  heart  may 
be  reclaimed  in  an  instant.  Your  letters  are  under  my  pil- 
low; I  bind  them  to  me  as  phylacteries,  and  I  attentively 
watch  for  a  moment  of  leisure,  to  acknowledge  them. 
Murray,  should  you  pass  out  of  time  before  me,  I  should 
experience  some  exquisitely  painful  sensations.  O !  may 
you  be  for  a  long,  long  time  to  come,  invulnerable  to  the 
shafts  of  disease;  yet  why  should  I  wish  to  turn  the  dart, 
that  will  give  you  passport  to  a  life  of  bliss  and  immortality ! 
You  who  agonize  at  the  present  state  of  existence.  No, 
let  me  neither  accelerate,  nor  retard,  even  by  a  wish,  that 
period  of  humanity,  but  invoke  our  common  Father  that 
we  may  be  strengthened  by  the  way,  and  with  faith  and 
patience  quietly  wait  the  expected  release.' 

'  Your  letter,  My  dear  Murray,  is  like  a  great  magazine, 
full  of  instruction  and  entertainment.  Were  I  to  attempt 
to  give  it  due  and  just  consideration,  I  should  write  a  vol- 
ume, and  probably  not  succeed  at  last.  You  say,  and  I  be- 
lieve it,  that  we  shall  be  built  up  again  upon  a  superior 
principle.  The  world  is  so  involved  in  the  wicked  one, 
that  I  am  really  glad  to  find  any  one  willing  to  allow  the 
goodness  of  God,  in  any  view;  it  is  at  least  one  step  to- 
ward a  just  way  of  thinking.  I  pray  you  to  be  content 
with  your  present  standing,  you  are  too  infirm  to  visit  far 
from  home;  where  you  speak,  you  are  heard  by  many 
strangers,  who  enter  your  Capital,  whom  you  know  not, 
but  who  hear  and  know  you;  so  I  think  your  station  is 
clearly  pointed  out,  to  which  you  do  well  to  adhere.  I  re- 
gret exceedingly,  that  I  cannot  attend  your  expositions  of 
the  ceremonial  Law,  in  which  I  understand  you  are  engag- 
ed. Those  laws  are  a  deep  and  rich  mine  of  instruction. 
The  scriptures  are  One,  like  a  great  Epic;  their  action  is 
One,  the  Restoration  of  a  lost  nature.  The  subordi- 
nate parts  evidently  point  to  the  great  Head  and  captain 
of  our  salvation.  Go  on,  my  dear  Sir,  and  may  you  be 
the  means  of  bringing  many  sons  to  glory.  Allow  me  to 
say,  you  ought  to  write  more  frequently;  your  diligence 
and  activity  are  well  known  to  me,  but  it  seems  incumbent 
upon  you  to  give  to  the  world  your  explanations  of  the 
sacred  writings.  Yes,  I  repeat,  you  would  do  well  to  be- 
stow some  portion  of  your  time  to  record  and  elucidate 


m 


LIFE    OP   REV.    JOHJI   MURRAY.  S5® 

many  passages  which,  when  you  are  gone,  may  speak  for 
you.  The  event  of  your  death,  however  dreaded,  must  be 
met  by  the  greater  part  of  your  hearers,  and,  although 
they  may  have  remaining  to  them  the  sacred  writings,  yet 
you  are  aware,  that  a  preacher  is  necessary.  I  have  com- 
pared you  to  some  of  the  general  elements  of  life,  whose 
good  and  salubrious  existences  are  not  known,  until  they 
are  lost.  I  consider  you  employed  in  removing  the  scales 
from  the  darkened  eye,  fortifying  the  timid  mind  against  the 
approaching  dissolyition  of  nature,  securing  it  from  the  blan- 
dishments of  delusion  and  leading  it  to  arm  against  the 
terrors  of  calamity  and  pain.  I  myself  am  indebted  to  you 
in  hundreds  of  instances  for  light,  and  most  important  in- 
formaiion.  I  need  not  repeat  my  best  wishes  to  you;  they 
present  themselves  to  me  in  full,  whenever  your  memory 
occurs  to  me.  I  feel  that  it  is  hereafter,  Avhen  you  and  I 
are  liberated,  that  I  shall  derive  a  part  of  my  happiness 
from  the  perfection  of  your  friendship.  May  the  least  and 
lightest  pains  infest  you  here;  this  is  the  utmost  a  mortal 
dare  wish,  or  request.' 

'Yes,  mv  dear  Sir,  I  am  now  sensible  of  the  value  of  ex- 
istence; and  the  insurance  of  immortality  has  become  my 
greatest  happiness.  The  time  was,  when,  to  my  serious 
moments,  immortality  appeared  garbed  in  horror;  many 
a  time  have  I  wished  I  had  never  been  born;  but,  blessed 
change,  I  can  now  perceive  that  light,  which  shined  in  me, 
even  then, — although  my  darkness  comprehended  it  not;  but 
blessed  be  God,  my  eyes  are  at  length  opened.  0 !  may 
God,  all-gracious,  watch  over  you,  and  preserve  you  from 
every  evil.  The  Almighty  in  great  mercy  hath  loaned  you 
to  a  benighted  world;  may  the  rich  blessing  be  long  con- 
tinued.' 

'  Gratitude,  dear  and  honored  Sir,  calls  upon  me  to  ac- 
knowledge my  great  obligations  for  the  glorious  declara- 
tion of  those  important  truths,  of  which,  until  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Mr  Murray,  I  was  entirely  ignorant 
From  that  blessed  era,  I  date  the  commencement  of  my 
terrestrial  felicity.  It  is  to  you,  as  an  instrument,  I  am  in- 
debted for  a  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  harmony  of  the  sacred 
writings;  I  can  now  behold,  with  devout  admiration,  the 
great  salvation  promised  us  by  the  word,  by  the  o.ith  of 
Jehovah,  in  that  holy  book,  which,  although  possessed  by 
many,  is  neither  understood  nor  valued,  except  by  a  few 
elected  individuals.  I  much  wish  for  your  continued  in- 
struction; and  I  know  you  take  pleasure  in  considering  it 
your  duty  to  impart  your  knowledge  of  the  Redeemer  to 
the  creatures  whom  he   hath  purchased  with  his  blood. 


200  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAl. 

Would  it  were  the  will  of  God  to  give  you  a  permanent 
standing  among  the  circle  of  my  friends,  who  are  so  great- 
ly devoted  to  you;  then,  dear  Sir,  would  our  heaven  be 
commenced  upon  earth,  and  all  would  be  one  continued 
scene  of  uninterrupted  praises  and  thanksgiving,  for  the 
great  Redemption,  wrought  out  by  the  death  affd  sufferings 
of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.' 

'  Murray,  how  greatly  you  succeed,  when  engaged  upon 
a  theme  which  I  emphatically  call  your  own.  I  love  to 
hear  you  speak  upon  any  subject;  but  on  this,  you  are,  I 
had  almost  said,  divine;  your  whole  soul  seems  engaged, 
when  dwelling  upon  the  Redeemer,  and  his  love  to  man; 
nothing  but  the  voice  of  the  God  who  made  you,  and  who 
hath  so  wonderfully  endowed  you,  can  exceed  the  honied 
accents  of  your  heaven-inspired  tongue.  Do  you  wonder 
that  I  am  daily  wishing  myself  among  the  number  of  your 
hearers,  your  happy  hearers !  but  how  contrasted  is  the  life 
of  a  soldier,  to  that  of  the  peaceful  christian  seated  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus.' 

A  respectable  gentleman,  writing,  nearly  two  years  since, 
from  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  and  speaking  relative  to  the 
recent  publication  of  the  venerable,  the  now  departed  saint, 
gratefully  says:  '  These  volumes, your  Letters  and  Sketch- 
es, are  all  I  hoped  for,  wished,  or  expected;  they  are  much 
more.  I  bless  God,  not  only  for  the  treasures  of  wisdom 
committed  to  his  venerable  servant,  but  also  that  his  valua- 
ble life  has  been  preserved  to  accomplish  this  work;  a  pro- 
duction, which  will  live,  and  be  read  with  ineffable  delight, 
when  the  rubbish  of  ages  shall  have  been  consigned  to  ob- 
livion.' 

Should  any  curiosity  exist  respecting  Mr.  Murray's  po- 
litical sentiments,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  he  was  in 
heart  an  American.  America  was  the  country  of  his 
adoption.  He  was  decidedly  and  uniformly  opposed  to  the 
oppression  of  the  British  ministry,  and  he  would  have  em- 
braced any  upright  measures  to  have  procured  redress;  yet, 
perhaps,  he  would  have  been  as  well  pleased,  had  England 
and  America  been  united  upon  terms  of  equality  and  recip- 
rocal benefit;  nor  can  it  be  denied,  that  he  was,  indubita- 
bly, an  Anti-Gallican.  In  our  opinion,  a  total  dereliction 
of  country  stamps  miscreant' upon  the  individual,  who  har- 
bors feelings  so  reprehensible.  England  was  the  native 
country  of  the  preacher;  the  virtues  flourished  in  his  bo- 
som, among  which  the  amor  patriae  glowed  with  no  com- 
mon lustre.  He  frequently  amused  himself  with  writing 
in  numbers,  which,  so  soon  as  written,  he  generally  com- 
mitted to  the  flames.     The    following  inartificial  lines, 


LIFE    OF    REV.       JOITN    MURRAY.  ^^t 

Written  one  hour  after  he  received  intelligence  of  the  de- 
mise of  the  celebrated  and  meritorious  Earl  of  Chatham, 
may  be  considered  as  a  correct  delineation  of  his  political 
views  and  wishes. 

Swift  on  the  ear  of  fancy  borne  along, 
And  safely  landed  on  my  native  Isle, 
I  join  the  mourning  train,  assembled  there 
And  stand  unnoticed  near  the  hallow'd  corse: 
I  mark  the  empty  pageantry  of  state, 
A  pageantry,  alas  !  not  empty  here, 
For  here  are  real  signs  of  real  wo  j 
All  ranks,  all  orders,  mingle  in  the  throng  ; 
Some  raise  the  voice  in  majesty  of  wo  : 
Some  silent  stand  as  statues —  pale  with  grief — 
At  sight  of  these,  my  tears  more  copious  flow. 

Hark — from  yon  seat  a  voice  assails  my  ear, 
Than  music  in  its  softest  strains  more  sweet. 
'Tis  Camden  !  favored  sage,  exalted  chief, 
He  calls  his  mourning  country  to  attend,  ,^.: 


m^ 


m 


As  thus  he  pours  the  elegiac  strain.  .^ 

'  From  life's  low  vale  where  all  was  calm  repose, 
And,  taught  by  heaven,  the  mind  drank  classic  lore, 
To  the  tumultuous  scenes  of  busy  life, 
This  peerless  man,  in  hour  of  dread  dismay. 
By  pitying  Heaven,  in  mercy  to* our  land, 
Was  summoned  forth.     He  gracious  heard,  and  came, 

Hailed  by  Britannia's  united  voice; 
His  royal  master  look'd  benignly  kind. 
And  bade  him  welcome  to  his  arms,  his  heart  j 
For  howso'er  remote  their  varied  spheres. 
Congenial  souls,  ^t  would  seem,  informed  them  both.  ^ 

No  longer  view'd  as  servant,  but  as  friend, 
In  all  his  Sovereign's  councils  he  had  part. 
Their  hopes  and  fears,  their  aims  and  ends  the 
The  Nation  gave  her  treasures  to  his  care, 
Himself  the  richest  treasure  she  possess'dj 
And  anxious  eyes  from  every  rank  were  raised, 
With  serious  awe,  and  steadfast  hope  to  him; 
Nor  were  their  hopes,  their  expectations  vain. 
New  life,  new  views,  fresh  vigor  nerved  his  arm, 
All  that  was  wrong,  his  vigilance  set  right, 


963  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOJIN    MURRAY. 

And;  what  was  greater  far,  preserved  it  so. 

The  foes  he  met  (for  who  from  foes  is  free) 

Were,  to  the  peerless  jewel  of  his  worth, 

Like  toiling  lapidary  to  the  costly  gem, 

They  made  its  brightness  more  conspicuous  shiii|p. 

The  fawning  sycophant  oft  sought  his  smile. 
But  piercing  eye-beams  struck  the  caitiff  blind  5 
The  foes  to  virtue  trembled  at  his  nod, 
iL         While  her  glad  sons  flocked  hovering  round  their  SirCt 
The  Merchant  watched  his  eye  5  the  sons  of  Art, 
The  swain  who  turns  the  glebe,  but  chiefly  he 
On  glory  bent,  who  ploughed  the  watery  way, 
Panting  to  grasp  the  treasures  of  the  globe. 
He  carefully  this  Pole-Star  still  observed. 
And  safely  voyaged,  with  this  star  in  view. 
How ^ wild  alas !  he'll  wander  now  'tis  hid. 

The  secrete  of  all  states,  blest  heaven-taught  sage, 
To  thy  pervading  eye  were  all  unveil'd. 
And  every  dark  intrigue  was  known  to  thee. 
The  Gallic  power  trembled  at  thy  nod, 
And  proud  Castalia,  cowering,  bent  to  thee. 
In  dire  suspense  the  awe-struck  Nations  stood, 
Nor  could  predict  where  next  would  burst  the  storm. 

Lo !  as  he  points,  our  Castles  float  along, 
And  British  thunders  roll  from  shore  to  shore  j 
The  sooty  tribes  of  Afric  shrink  appalPd, 
And  China's  crafty  sons  distrust  their  skill. 

In  this  great  Legislator's  hand,  our  flag, 
Like  that  fam'd  wand  into  a  serpent  chang'd. 
As  Hebrew  sages  sung  in  days  of  yore. 
Made  every  other  flag  obsequious  bow, 
And  every  Nation  own'd  or  felt  his  power. 
But,  while  remotest  lands  through  fear  obey'd, 
,    His  grateful  Country  serv'd  with  filial  love, 
And  every  son  of  Albion  shared  his  care. 

Nor  did  the  British  garden,  blooming  round 
Alone  engage  the  heavenly  laborer's  toil ; 
With  v/atchful  eye  he  viewed  those  tender  shoots, 
Whilome  transplanted  to  Columbia's  soil ; 
Those  tender  lambs  he  gently  led  along, 
And  to  their  plaints  still  bent  a  parent's  ear. 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  36.5 

Dear,  much  loved  offspring  of  this  happy  Isle, 
.With  us,  sincere,  ye  mourn  the  common  loss  3 
With  us  lament  the  Father  and  the  Friend  : 
But,  while  our  bursting  hearts  deplore  hia  flight 
Perfidious  Bourbon  ghastly  grins  his  joy  5 
The  Gallic  Cock  now  feebly  claps  his  wings 
And  thinks  to  hear  the  Lion  roar  no  more. 
Base,  treacherous,  cringing,  dastard  slaves,  beware  j 
Although  our  Sun  be  set  to  rise  no  more,  ^ 

The  moon  and  stars  shall  guide  the  Lion's  paw 
To  seize  thee  trembling  in  thy  close  retreat. 
Already  mark  !  he  shakes  his  shaggy  mane, 
And  growling  rises  from  his  murky  den  5 
His  eye-balls  roll  with  rage — they  shoot  forth  flames ; 
He  grinds  his  teeth,  and  finds  them  solid  still ; 
He  tries  his  paws,  and  finds  his  talons  strong. 
Our  groans  have  rous'd  him  ;  see,  he  sleeps  no  more 
But  still  the  royal  issue  of  this  Isle, 
This  highly  favored  regent  of  the  main, 
Secure  may  stand,  nor  fear  the  Lion's  rage. 

What  though  the  Demons  of  this  Land  may  strive 
To  set  the  gen'rous  Lion  on  her  sons. 
The  Lion  shrinks — so  ancient  Bards  declare — 
Nor  will  destroy  the  issue  nobly  born. 
But  those  perfidious,  who  would  set  him  on. 
With  ghastly  looks,  and  souls  appall'd  by  fear. 
Too  late  shall  feel  the  horrors  of  despair.' 

But  it  is  the  Religionist  we  are  solicitous  to  characterize; 
and  although  the  sentiments  of  the  preacher  may  be  gath- 
ered from  his  writings,  yet,  as  this  volume  may  come  un- 
der the  eye  of  some  individuals,  who  may  not  possess  the 
publication  to  which  we  have  so  often  alluded,  it  may  be . 
proper,  in  this  place  to  attempt  a  brief  outline  of  the  most 
prominent  features  in  his  creed. 

His  full  soul  believed  in  one  Great  and  indivisible  First 
cause,  or  origin  of  all  created  beings;  before  this  great 
First  cause  One  Eternal  now,  was,  is,  and  will  be  ever  pres- 
ent. Every  thing  which  has  past,  in  passing,  or  shall  pass, 
was  ordained  in  His  eternal  purpose,  and  actually  passed  in 
review  before  Him,  ere  ever  the  worlds  were  formed,  or 
countless  systems  commenced  their  revolutions. 

The  God  of  our  Philanthropist  was  Omnipotent  Om- 
nipresent ;  and  Omniscient;  consequently  he  performed 


S64  WFE      OP    REV.    JOHN    MVRRAT. 

all  his  will;  was,  is,  and  will  be,  present  through  all 
space,  through  time  and  through  eternity.  In  the  prose- 
cution of  His  plans,  myriads  of  angels,  in  their  various  or- 
ders, were  by  his  Omnipotent  power  commanded  into  being; 
these  cherubim  and  seraphim,  angels  and  archangels,  sur- 
rounded the  throne  of  the  Most  High.  The  morning  stars 
sang  together,  and  all  the  hosts  of  heaven  rejoiced. 

But  strange  as  it  may  appear  to  our  finite  understanding 
fell  discord  with  peace-destroying  influence,  reared  his  hy- 
dra, his  tremendous  head.  Various  conjectures  hover  round 
this  phenomenon.  The  origin  of  evil  has  exercised  intel- 
lects the  most  profound  and  erudite;  but  he,  who  can  de- 
velop the  arcana  of  the  Almighty,  may  claim  equality  with 
his  God.  It  should  be  our  care  not  to  attribute  to  Deity  a 
mode  of  conduct  irreconcileable  with  rectitude;  and  to  keep 
close  to  that  revelation,  which  he  hath  graciously  vouch- 
safed to  bestovy'  upon  us. 

The  creation  of  man  succeeded  the  fall  of  the  angelic  na- 
ture. God  said, —  Let  Us  make  man,  &c.  8tc.  Speaking 
in  the  plural,  with  an  eye  to  the  complexity  of  that  charac- 
ter He  had  predetermined  to  assume,  and,  as  we  before  ob- 
served, pas^,j9resen^,  an<^/w^wre,  constituted,  the  token  of 
Deity,  one  complete  whole;  and  thus  were  important  oc- 
currences garbed  in  language,  suited  to  the  elevation  of  the 
Godhead.  In  process  of  time,  this  august  Creator,  was  to 
•be  enrobed  in  humanity  and  become  the  son  born;  was  to 
be  exhibited  as  a  holy  spirit  of  consolation,  taking  of  the 
things  of  Jesus,  and  exhibiting  them  to  the  mind,  thus  speak- 
ing peace.  Mr.  Murray  was  at  the  same  time  a  Unitari- 
an, and  a  Trinitarian,  beholding,  constantly  beholding 
the  trinity  in  the  unity.  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image, 
after  our  own  likeness, —  Yea,  verily,  man  may  be  consid- 
ered as  made  in  the  image,  and  after  the  likeness  of  his 
Creator.  The  fio:ure  is  striking;  man  is  a  triune  being, 
body,  soul,  and  spirit,  yet  no  individual  is  considered  as 
three,  but  one  man,  the  Trinity  in  Unity.  The  Almighty, 
clad  in  garments  of  flesh,  became  the  God-Man,  and, 
speaking  of  Himself  as  man,  he  says,  my  Father  is  greater 
than  me;  while,  reverting  to  the  divinity,  he  affirms,  the 
Father  and  He  are  One,  Philip,  have  I  been  so  long  with 
thee,  and  dost  thou  say,  show  me  the  Father.  '  He  who 
hrith  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.'  Was  this  true, — 
or  was  Jesus  Christ  an  impostor?  In  this  view  the 
scriptures  are  beautifully  consistent.  I  am  God  thp.  Sav- 
iour: a  just  God  and  a  Saviour;  there  is  none  beside  me, 
— This  same  evangelical  prophet exultingly  exclaims;  Isaiah 
ix,  6:  Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given,  his 
name  shalV  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  mighty 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  966 

God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Such 
were  the  comprehensive  vievi^s  of  Deity,  which  became 
more  and  more  luminous  to  the  mental  eye  of  the  preacher. 

He  believed,  that  the  creation  of  human  beings  made  a 
part  of  the  divine  purpose;  in  which  sacred,  uncontrollable, 
and  irreversible  purpose,  the  whole  family  of  man  were 
originally  and  intimately  united  to  their  august  Creator,  in  _ 
u  manner  MYSTERIOUS,  and  as  much  beyond  our  limited 
conception,  as  the  Creator  is  superior  to  the  creature  whom 
He  hath  formed. 

Adam  the  first  was  a  figure  of  Adam  the  second.  Adam 
the  first,  the  prototype;  Adam  the  second,  the  substance  of 
the  prototype,  the  Creator  of  all  Worlds,  the  Lord  from 
Heaven.  The  sacred  scriptures  abound  with  figures  of 
this  mysterious,  this  ennobling,  this  soul-satisfying  Union-, 
among  which,  perhaps,  none  is  more  expressive  than  that 
of  the  Head  and  Members  constituting  one  body,  of  which 
Jesus  Christ  was  the  immaculate  Head.  Hence  the  pro- 
priety and  necessity,  of  looking  with  a  single  eye  to  Jesus 
Christ.  We  are  members  of  the  body  of  Christ,  who  is  the 
head  of  every  man:  Should  a  single  member  of  this  mysti- 
cal hody  be  finally  lost,  the  Redeemer  must,  through  eter- 
nity, remain  imperfect. 

A  Law  was  given,  to  the  complete  obedience  of  which, 
everlasting  life  was  annexed;  but  no  individual  member 
was  ever  able  to  fulfil  this  Law;  it  was  only  the  head  and 
members  collectively  in  their  glorious  head,  that  was  fur- 
nished with  abilities  adequate  to  a  performance  of  such  vast 
magnitude.  Yea,  verily,  we  do  indeed  break  the  Divine 
Law,  in  thought,  in  word,  and  in  deed,  and  the  lip  of  truth 
declares,  he  who  oflfends  in  one  point  is  guilty  of  all. 

Why  then  was  the  commandment  so  exceeding  broad .? 
To  convince  mankind  of  imbecility;  and  that  the  rectitude 
they  had  forfeited,  could  never,  in  their  own  individual  cha- 
racters be  regained.  But  the  plan  of  Deity  was  without 
an  error,  the  revolution  of  time  ushered  in  the  great  Repre- 
sentative, or  more  properly  speaking,  the  Head  of  the  body; 
and  the  forfeit  was  paid,  full  atonement  was  presented,  the 
ransom  given,  and,  in  this  hour  of  nature's  jubilee,  the 
prodigal  family  restored  to  their  original  possessor. 

To  make  this  truth  manifest  was  the  great  business  of 
our  promulgator.  He  was  convinced,  that  only  he,  who 
believed,  could  be  saved;  and  that  he,  who  believed  not, 
was  indubitably  damned.  Hence  he  has  frequently  said, 
he  did  not  believe  in  Universal  salvation,  because  he  saw  the 
majority  of  mankind  were  not  saved.  But  he  was  a  firm 
believer  in  Universal  Redemption;  because  that  sacred 
23 


silo  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Tolume,  which  he  steadfastly,  and  unwaveringly  believed 
to  be  the  word  of  God,  assured  him  the  price  was  paid,  and 
the  whole  human  family  was  redeemed. 

It  was  the  neglecting-  to  distinguish  between  salvation  and 
redemption,  which  so  frequently  drew  upon  the  preacher 
the  charge  of  prevarication,  or,  as  it  was  termed  by  Mr. 

C 1 — ,  hiding.     An  article  of  intelligence  may  be  an 

established  fact ;  \t  may  most  importantly  affect  us;  but  so 
long  as  the  mind  refuses  to  admit  its  authenticity,  we  are 
undeniably  subjected  to  all  those  agonizing  apprehensions, 
whi'^.h  we  should  endure,  if  no  such  fact  existed;  and  it  was 
the  salvation  from  these  mental  sufferings,  which  Mr.  Mur- 
ray supposed  consequent  upon  a  preached  Gospel;  in  other 
words,  an  exemption  from  those  tortures,  that  conscious- 
ness of  condemnation,  which  is  most  emphatically  describ- 
ed, when  it  is  said,  He  who  believeth  not,  is,  or  shall  be 
damned. 

Yet  it  is  an  established  truth,  that  every  believer  was 
once  an  unbeliever;  every  believer,  then,  was  once  damned, 
and  it  was  only  when  he  became  a  believer,  that  he  was 
saved  from  those  countless  agonies,  which  erst  times 
pierced  him  through  with  many  sorrows.  But  he  was  re- 
deemed, the  price  was  paid,  ere  ever  he  was  called  into  ex- 
istence. Thus,  in  this  view,  redemption  and  salvation  are 
distinct  considerations. 

The  preacher  unhesitatingly  believed,  aZZ  who  learned o^ 
the  Father  would  come  to  Jesus,  and  that  all  \\o\i\Ajinally 
be  taught  of  God.  He  was  a  decided  believer  in  the  doc- 
trine of  angels  of  light,  and  angels  of  darkness,  of  minister- 
ing spirits  of  light,  and  of  demons  stimulating  to  deeds  of 
darkness.  He  looked  forward  to  a  judgment  to  come,  when 
countless  numbers,  among  the  children  of  men,  would  rise 
to  the  resurrection  of  damnation,  and,  ignorant  of  the  gen- 
uine character  of  the  Redeemer,  would  call  upon  the  rocks 
and  mountains  to  fall  upon  them,  and  hide  them  from  the 
WRATH  OF  THE  Lamb;  and,  believing  himself  a  humble 
instrument  in  the  hand  of  God,  ordained  by  Him  to  the 
ministry  of  reconciliation,  he  was  never  so  completely  hap- 
py, as  when  declaring  the  gospel  to  be  believed;  and  calling 
upon  men  every  where,  to  receive  the  glad  tidings  of  salva- 
tion. He  was  persuaded  that  those,  who  lied  down  in  sor- 
row, would  continue  unhappy  wanderers,  until  the  opening 
of  that  book,  in  which  every  human  being,  every  member 
of  Christ  was  written;  yet  he  had  no  idea  of  any  purgation 
for  sin,  save  what  was  suffered  by  Christ  Jesus,  loho,  by 
Himself ,  purged  our  sins.  Writing  of  Mr.  Winchester  to 
a  friend,  Mr.  Murray  thus  expressed  himself,  ^  Mr.  Win- 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY.  267 

Chester  is  full  with  Mr.  Law,  and  of  course  preaches  pur- 
gatorial satisfaction.  According  to  these  gentlemen,  every 
man  must  finally  be  his  own  Saviour!  If  I  must  suffer  as 
much  in  my  own  person  as  will  satisfy  divine  justice,  how 
is,  or  how  can  Christ  Jesus  be,  m)'  Saviour?  If  this  pur- 
gatorial  doctrine  be  true,  the  ministry  of  reconciliation, 
committed  to  the  apostles  must  he  false;  '  to  wit,  God  was 
in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing 
unto  them  their  trespasses.^  In  fact,  I  know  no  persons 
further  from  Christianity,  genuine  Christianity,  than  such 
Uni\^ersalists.' 

Mr  Murray  supposed  the  inquietude  of  unembodied,  or 
departed  spirits,  a  natural  effect,  derived  from  a  cause.  As 
unbelievers,  they  cannot  see  the  things  which  belong  to  their 
peace;  but  he  greatly  rejoiced,  that,  however,  at  present  en- 
veloped in  darkness,  there  were,  and  are,  things  that  did 
and  do  belong  to  their  peace;  that  the  day  cometh,  when 
whatsoever  is  hid  shall  be  revealed;  and,  that  at  the  period 
of  the  restitution  of  all  things,  the  word,  the  oath  of  Jeho- 
vah was  pledged,  that  every  eye  should  see,  and  every 
tongue  confess.  The  preacher  was  persuaded  that  a  few, 
even  in  the  present  dispensation,  were  elected  out  of  the 
world,  to  embrace  the  truth,  previous  to  their  passing  out 
of  time.  These  Judging  themselves,  are,  therefore,  not  to 
be  judged:  Saints  of  God,  they  shall  surround  the  Redeemer 
at  his  second  coming,  or  be  caught  up  in  the  air  to  meet 
the  God-Man;  after  which,  the  whole  world  shall  be  sum- 
moned at  the  imperial  bar  of  the  Sire  of  angels  and  of  men, 
the  Creator  of  all  worlds:  That  a  separation  will  then  take 
place;  the  Judge,  the  Redeemer  will  divide  them,  as  a 
shepherd  divides  his  sheep  from  the  goats;  will  separate 
every  individual  from  that  body  of  sin  and  death,  of  which 
Paul  complained,  being  burdened;  from  that  fallen  spirit, 
which  attaches  to  every  individual  in  such  sort  as  to  the 
man  among  the  tombs  rendering  it  a  truth,  that  he  who 
sleepeth,  apparently  alone  upon  his  bed,  is,  nevertheless, 
still  connected  with  his  tormentor,  and  will  so  continue, 
until  this  glorious  day  of  separation,  and  of  restitution; 
when  these  two  shall  be  s.eparated,  one  from  another,  the 
one  taken  the  other  left.  The  fallen  angels,  figured  by  the 
goats,  shall  be  ranged  on  the  left  hand,,  while  the  harassed 
human  nature,  redeemed  by  the  God  who  created  it,  shall 
be  found  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High.  Thus,  after 
the  world  is  judged,  out  of  the  things  written  in  the  books; 
after  they  are  found  guilty  before  God,  and  every  mouth  is 
stopped,  the  book  of  life  shall  be  opened,  in  which  all  the 
members  of  the  Redeemer,  every  individual  of  the  Human 


268  LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN    MURRAY. 

Family  J  shall  he  found  written;  and  the  ransomed  of  the 
Lord  shall  be  declared  denizens  of  that  kingdom,  where 
dwelleth  felicity  uninterrupted. 

Such  were  the  leading  sentiments  of  Our  Universalist; 
and  he  was  firmly  of  opinion,  that  the  doctrines  of  the  Gos- 
pel, rightly  understood,  would  teach  men  every  where,  to 
be  careful  of  maintaining  good  works,  to  love  one  another, 
and  in  all  things  to  regard  the  best  interests  of  their 
Brother  Man. 

Conversant  with  the  preacher  upwards  of  forty  years,  we 
never  knew  his  testimony  to  vary,  in  the  smallest  degree. 
In  joy  and  in  sorrow,  in  health,  in  sickness,  and  in  death, 
not  a  single  cloud  appeared  to  gather  upon  the  countenance 
of  his  God,  or  to  obstruct,  so  far  as  it  referred  to  his  pros- 
pects, beyond  the  grave,  the  clear  sunshine  of  his  soul.     , 

If  we  except  the  Rev.  John  Tyler,  Episcopalian  minister 
in  Norwich,  Connecticut,  and  the  Rev.  Edward  Mitchell 
in  the  city  of  New-York,  we  do  not  know  that  the  senti- 
ments of  any  preacher  of  Universalism  now  upon  this  Con- 
tinent, are  exactly  in  unison  with  the  departed  promulga- 
tor. But  if  they  build  upon  the  great  foundation,  we  de- 
voutly wish  them  Gods  speed;  well  assured,  that  those 
who  build  upon  this  foundation— g-oZc?,  silver ^ precious  stones, 
toood,  hay,  stubble — every  man^s  work  shall  be  made  mani^ 
fest.  For  the  day  shall  declare  it,  Oecause  it  shall  be  revealed 
byjire;  and  the  fire  try  every  man's  work,  of  what  sort  it  is. 
If  any  man's  work  abide  which  he  hath  built  thereupon,  he 
shall  receive  a  reward.  If  any  man's  work  shall  be  burnt, 
he  shall  suffer  loss,  but  he  himself  shall  be  saved;  yet  so,  as 
by  fire. 

Mr  Murray's  last  marriage  was  the  result  of  a  strong  and 
holy  friendship,  founded  upon  the  rock  of  ages;  and,  orig- 
inating in  devout  admiration  of  redeeming  love,  it  is  fer- 
vently hoped,  and  unwaveringly  believed,  that  this  union 
will  be  perfected  in  another  and  a  better  World. 

One  son,  and  one  daughter,  were  the  offspring  of  this 
marriage.  The  son  surrendered  his  innocent  life  in  the 
birth;  the  daughter  still  survives,  the  prop,  and  consolation 
of  her  WIDOWED  mother. 


APPENDIX 


Thus  ends  the  narrative  of  the  life  of  this  most  extraor- 
dinary man — the  man,  who,  under  God,  may  justly  be  re- 
garded as  the  father  of  the  Universalist  Order  in  this  coun- 
try. The  attentive  reader  will  have  observed  many  pecu- 
liarities in  the  character  he  has  so  ingeniously  drawn  of 
himself;  and  it  will  be  surprising  if  any  can  rise  from  the 
perusal  of  this  little  volume  without  being  impressed  with 
a  sense  of  the  fact,  that,  even  in  those  peculiarities,  there 
is  much  to  admire.  He  seems  to  have  been  eminently  well 
qualified  for  the  arduous  labors  he  was  called  to  perform. 
No  man  could  have  done  more  or  done  it  better — few  could 
have  done  so  much  in  advancing  the  cause  of  impartial 
grace.  The  blessing  of  God  seems  to  have  attended  and 
followed  his  exertions.  Many  are  yet  alive  who  were  once 
favored  with  the  privilege  of  listening  to  his  instructive 
communications;  and  they  rank  high  among  the  ardent  and 
steadfast  friends  of  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  . 

After  a  lapse  of  little  more  than  half  a  century  from  the 
time  when  he  first  began  his  public  labors  in  this  country, 
it  becomes  most  deeply  interesting  to  know  how  far  the 
cause  he  advocated,  has  advanced — whether  the  seed  which 
he  scattered  abroad,  fell  on  stony  places,  or  on  good  ground; 
and  we  are  tempted  to  state  a  few  facts  in  relation  to  the 
past  prosperity  and  present  condition  of  Universalism  in 
this  country,  with  the  view  of  marking  its  progress,  that 
after  generations  may  learn  not  to  despise  '  the  day  of  small 
things.' 

In  the  places  where  the  stated  labore  of  the  venerated 
Murray  were  enjoyed,  the  sentiment  has  continued  to  ad- 
vance, and  Ls  now  permanently  established.  In  Gloucester, 
where  he  suffered  much,  and  where,  we  believe,  the  first 
regularly  constituted  church  of  the  order  was  collected, 
there  are  now  five  societies,  three  of  which  enjoy  stated 
preaching,  and  are  examples  to  the  believers  in  all  things. 
Many,  who  once  li.stene(l  to  hU  eloquent  illustrations  of 
truth,  and  who  were  inspired  with  the  hopes  of  a  blissful 
immortality  by  his  preaching,  are  yet  alive,  and  are  *  ready 
to  give  to  every  man  that  asketh,  a  reason  of  the  hope  that 
is  in  them.'  They  remain  steadfast  in  the  faith  once  de- 
23 


270  APPENDIX. 

livered  to  the  saints,  and  abound  in  a  well  foanded  and 
peace  giving  confidence  in  the  impartial  grace  and  love  of 
God.  We  shun  not  inquiry.  We  ask  the  Christian  world 
to  look  at  the  daily  walk  and  conversation — the  steadfast- 
ness and  intelligence — the  zeal  and  fidelity  of  those  early 
converts  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Restitution,  and  then  to  de- 
cide upon  its  tendency.  We  will  not  stop  here.  We  ask 
Christians  of  all  denominations  to  look  at  the  influence 
they  have  exerted  upon  the  community,  and  especially 
upon  their  children,  and  then  say  how  far  the  fears  of  their 
opponents — not  to  say  their  persecutors — have  been  real- 
ized. 

The  society  in  Hanover  Street,  Boston,  where  Mr.  Mur- 
ray labored  several  years,  and  where  his  useful  life  termi- 
nated has  enjoyed  uninterrupted  prosperity.  The  house 
in  which  his  voice  was  heard  with  so  much  delight,  is  yet 
occupied  by  a  large  and  highly  respectable  congregation, 
under  the  pastoral  care  of  Rev.  Sebastian  Streeter.  From 
this  have  sprung  three  other  societies — one  under  the  care 
of  Rev.  Hosea  Ballou,  one  enjoying  the  labors  of  Bev.  Paul 
Dean,  who  was  formerly  colleague  with  Mr.  Murray,  and 
the  other,  a  society  recently  formed  in  South  Boston,  fa- 
vored with  the  devoted  exertions  of  Rev.  Benjamin  Whitte- 
more.  All  these  are  in  a  flourishing  condition.  To  these 
may  be  added,  as  having  grown  out  of  the  first  Universalist 
society  in  Boston,  one  at  Charlestown,  one  at  Roxbury, 
one  at  Cambridge,  and  one  at  Maiden — all  within  four 
miles  of  the  city. 

But  this  gives  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  spread  and  i)ros- 
perity  of  the  doctrines  he  taught.  The  number  of  minis- 
ters now  actually  engaged  in  defending  and  promulgating 
the  doctrine  of  the  final  reconciliation  and  happiness  of 
all  mankind,  cannot  be  less  than  three  hundred.  The 
number  of  societies  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining — 
doubtless  it  far  exceeds  the  number  of  preachers. "  Be- 
sides all  this,  the  principles  which  distinguished  the  early 
promulgator  of  glad  tidings,  have  spread  and  are  spread- 
ing throughout  our  happy  country,  in  hundreds  of  places 
where  the  voice  of  a  preacher  of  the  order  was  never 
heard.  Nine  or  ten  periodicals  are  now  extensively  pa- 
tronised, and  are  enjinently  successful  in  disseminating 
the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  Thus  are  we  enabled,  on 
presenting  to  the  public  a  new  edition  of  the  life  of 
Murray,  to  congratulate  our  brethren  on  the  success  of 
the  principles,  on  account  of  which  he  labored  and  suflfer- 
ed  reproach.  The  pleasure  of  the  Lord  has  truly  prosper- 
ed in  the  thing  whereto  he  sent  it.  Ed. 


I 


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